I love you. You love me. You do. You do," and crushed her to
him, but this time his pain and his surprise genuine as she sprang back,
quivering.
"You--I--mustn't!" she said, frantic to keep her lips from twisting, her
little lacy fribble of a handkerchief a mere string from winding.
"Mustn't what?"
"Mustn't," was all she could repeat and not weep her words.
"Won't--I--do?"
"It's--mama."
"What?"
"You see--I--she's all alone."
"You adorable, she's got a brand-new husky husband."
"No--you don't--understand."
Then, on a thunder-clap of inspiration, hitting his knee, "I have it.
Mama-baby! That's it. My girlie is a cry-baby, mama-baby!" And made to
slide along the divan toward her, but up flew her two small hands, like
fans.
"No," she said with the little bang back in her voice which steadied him
again. "I mustn't! You see, we're so close. Sometimes it's more as if I
were the mother and she my little girl."
Misery made her dumb.
"Why don't you know, dear, that your mother is better able to take care
of herself than you are. She's bigger and stronger. You--you're a little
white flower."
"Leo--give me time. Let me think."
"A thousand thinks, Alma, but I love you. I love you and want so
terribly for you to love me back."
"I--do.
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