I'm not clever, and I can't answer you
cleverly. You might as well make up your mind to it, and then the
way I look won't be a disappointment to you. I know I look like a
medieval princess. It's because I was brought up to. But I'm not the
least bit medieval inside; honestly I'm not. I love to cook and I
love children, and I'm always hungry for my meals. I don't want to
seem discouraging, but I shall really be a dreadful disappointment
to you if you--"
"As long as you have copper-gold hair and sky-blue eyes, _nothing_
you can do will disappoint me," said Clarence caressingly. "Be a
suffragette, if you will--be a war-widow! It's all the same. I can
be just as happy with you--and I intend to be!"
The mockery dropped from his voice for a moment as he said the last
words. Joy looked at him, a little frightened for the moment. She
smiled, then.... She was only nineteen, but she was thoroughly
human, and the spirit of Aunt Lucilla lighted her eyes. She dropped
her black lashes against her pink cheeks and spoke irresponsibly.
"But suppose--suppose I should fall in love with you?" she asked in
a most little-girl voice. "Don't you see how dreadfully unhappy
_I_ would be?"
"Oh, you won't," Clarence assured her in a tone whose casualness did
not quite hide his welcome of the prospect. "We'll just be
interested in each other enough to make it interesting. Why, Joy of
My Life, I wouldn't take anything from good old Hewitt for anything
in the world.
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