The Goddess Girl
"I do, indeed," said I miserably.
"Gentle, and womanly, and thoughtful." He hurled the adjectives at my dejected head.
"She's all that and more," I murmured, for in my penitence I was just to her.
"Tactful, and quiet, and soft-footed."
"As a mouse," said I.
"A born manager."
"She is, indeed." With fervor I could confirm him in this impression.
"I never knew a cooler hand."
"Nor I," cried I with real feeling.
As heavily as he had risen, he sat down and groaned, in complete unison with the wicker chair.
"A girl in a thousand," finished he.
"In a million," agreed I with desperate honesty. "But, Sandy"—I returned to his old nickname in affectionate absence of mind—"are you mad or only criminal?"
He gazed blankly at me.
"With a heart like you say yours is!" said I. "Have you spoken to Anne?"
"Yes."
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