"
"I am satisfied," she replied on the point of tears, "but, oh, Jonathan,
I'm not happy."
"Then it's your own fault," he answered, still annoyed with her. "You've
had everything your own way, and just because I get in trouble and come
to you for sympathy, you begin to nag. For God's sake, don't become a
nagging woman, Blossom. A man hates her worse than poison."
"O Jonathan!" she cried out sharply, placing her hand on her breast as
though he had stabbed her.
"Of course, I'm only warning you. Your great charm is poise--I never saw
a woman who had so much of it. That's what a man wants in a wife,
too. Vagaries are all right in a girl, but when he marries, he wants
something solid and sensible."
"Then you do love me, Jonathan?"
"Don't be a goose," he rejoined--for it was a question to which he had
never in his life returned a direct answer.
"Of course, I know you do or you wouldn't have married me--but I wish
you'd tell me so--just in words--sometimes."
"If I told you so, you'd have no curiosity left, and that would be bad
for you. Come, kiss me, sweetheart, that's better than talking."
She kissed him obediently, as mildly complaisant as she had once been
coldly aloof.
Pages:
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257