"Well, I--of course I admire her awfully. Everyone does. But I
don't know that I'd have a chance with her." Suddenly and unbidden
there leaped into his heart the glorious thought of possessing
Nancy. Nancy--his wife, making a home and a life for unworthy him!
He flushed deeply. His mother caught the abashed murmur,
"...thirteen hundred a year!"
"Exactly!" she said incisively, almost triumphantly. But her eyes,
closely watching his expression, were anxious. "I don't believe in
having things made too easy for young persons," she added,
smiling. "But that--that really is too hard."
"Yep. That's too hard," Bert agreed.
"It isn't fair to the girl to ask it," added his mother gently.
"That's true," Bert said a little heavily, after a pause. "It
isn't fair--to Nancy."
The next night Nancy wondered why his manner was so changed, and
why he spoke so bitterly of his work, and what was the matter with
him anyway. She reflected that perhaps he was sorry his mother's
visit was over. For two or three weeks he seemed restless and
discontented, and equally unwilling to be included in the "Dutch
treats," or to be left out of them. And then suddenly the bad mood
passed, and Bert was his kind and appreciative and generous self
again.
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