"Yes--I've got to keep up for them!" she said, smiling bravely.
And in a tense undertone she added, "You're wonderful to me!"
"And will you have some supper--just to break the evening?"
"I had tea." She leaned back, and shut her eyes. "I couldn't--
eat!" she whispered pitifully. His response was to put his clean,
folded handkerchief into her hand, and at that she opened the wet
eyes, and smiled at him shakily.
"Just some soup--or a salad," he urged. "Will you promise me,
Nancy?"
"I promise you I'll try," she said in parting.
Walking home with his head in a whirl, Bert said to himself: "This
is the second of October. I'll give her six months. On the second
of April I'll ask her."
However, he asked her on Christmas night, after the Venables'
wonderful Christmas dinner, when they all talked of the Civil War
as if it were yesterday, and when old laces, old jet and coral
jewelry, and frail old silk gowns were much in evidence. They were
sitting about the coal fire in the back drawing-room, when Nancy
and Bert chanced to be alone. Mrs. Venables had gone to brew some
punch, with Sis' Sally Anne's help. The other young men of the
party were assisting them, Augusta had gone to the telephone.
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