He was startled. "Marry?" he repeated.
"Yes; you need someone to take care of you--someone to look after your
daily needs--every man does."
"I guess there's no doubt about that. But it ought to be a guardian in my
case; or maybe a keeper." She could see that he was stalling for time, and
trying to laugh off a topic that was serious indeed to him.
"We're such old friends, Gil," she said, looking at his handsome face. "I
don't like to go--to think of you always, like this--alone."
"I still have uncle," he reminded her.
"Oh, don't joke, Gil! You need a woman--a wife--someone to mother you."
"All those?"
Why couldn't he be serious for a moment? She asked him that.
"I don't dare to, Lucia." His voice was low.
She was a bit puzzled. "Why?"
"Because the minute you begin to take life seriously, it takes _you_ that
way, and then--"
"But don't you see what it would mean to you, dear Gil? To have someone
always here; to kiss you when you go; to greet you when you come back; to
laugh with you when you are glad; and comfort you when things go wrong. To
give you the sympathy, the understanding that a man finds only in a woman's
heart. Don't you see, Gil?"
"Yes, of course I see," he said, his head bowed a little.
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