I'm home again and I've waked up. Humor me
in a little conceit, won't you? Let me make believe that I'm the state and
listen to me while I tell you what a big, brave, unselfish--"
They were inside the door and he put his arm about her and led her toward
the big screen and broke in on her little speech that she was making
tremulously, apprehensively, with a sob in her voice, trying to hide her
deeper emotions under her mock-dramatics.
"Hush, dear! I don't want to hear any state talk to me! I want to hear
only Lana Corson talk. I didn't understand her last night! Now, bless her
honest, true heart, I do understand her."
Speech, long repressed, was rushing from his mouth. Then he struggled with
words; his excitement choked him. He looked down at her through his tears.
"The bit poem, lassie! You remember it. The poem you recited, and when I
sent you the big basket o' posies! All the time since yesterday it has
been running in my head. I sat alone in the State House last night and all
I could remember was, 'But I will marry my own first love!' I tried to say
it out like a man, believing that God has meant you for me. But I couldn't
think I'd be forgiven!"
Lana took his hand between her palms and stopped him at the edge of the
screen.
Pages:
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336