no one had any way of discerning whether or no his intentions were entirely honorable. It was best, thought Joe, not to worry about such things. If, for the present, Emma Lou was more happy than she had ever been before, there would be time enough to worry about the future when its problems materialized.
“Don’t you worry about Emma Lou. She’s got sense.”
“But, Joe, suppose she does forget herself with this man? He is studying to be a doctor and he may not want a wife, especially when. . . .”
“Damn it, Jane!” her brother snapped at her. “Do you think every one is like you? The boy seems to like her.”
“Men like any one they can use, but you know as well as I that no professional man is going to marry a woman dark as Emma Lou.”
“Men marry any one they love, just as you and I did.”
“But I was foolish.”
“Well?”
“That’s right—Be unconcerned. That’s right—Let her go to the devil. There’s no hope for her anyway. Oh—why—why did I marry Jim Morgan?” and she had gone into the usual crying fit which inevitably followed this self-put question.
