I've noticed that many and many a time. And not
I only, I can assure you. Bill Chevenix, now---"
Her thoughts, her regard, were far away from a world of Ingrams and
Chevenixes. She may have heard, but she gave no sign. He rattled on.
"Oh, you're splendid, of course you're splendid. The comfort of you! I go
off to the ends of the world--without a care left behind me--or taken with
me, by Jove! No bothers, no worry--letters opened, the right ones,
answered and done with. Letters forwarded, the right ones, unopened. How
you can guess, it beats me! No worry. You don't ask me to write to you--or
expect it. You don't write to me--and I don't expect it. You know me just
as I know you. There's a confidence, a certainty about you. That's what's
so splendid. There can't be a girl in the world like you." He clasped her
in triumph. "My Sancie! Back I come at the end of my time, and
everything's in apple-pie order. And to crown all, there's you at the
door, to welcome me--and wait your turn--and wait your turn. Always the
same--my wise, fine Sanchia!" He leaned forward, picked up and held her
hand. "My dear, I love you," he said, and jumped up and kissed her. Then,
as he stood above her, the triumphant young man, with the hand of
possession on her shoulder, "Upon my word," he declared to the assembled
universe, "this is a very satisfactory world, so far as I am concerned.
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