" Instantly she held
up her face. "Ah, pet, you are always submissive; but never aggressive:
still, this is sweet. And I was wondering what had become of the weeping
willow I left."
"Wasn't I a silly goose, Ross?" she said, a little breathlessly.
"Well, no, dear: you were very nervous and worn-out."
"I hate nervous, fidgety women so: they're detestable with their whims."
"I did not find you so, but I'm glad you're over it, all the same."
"And so am I. You could not make me cry like that again, Ross, if you were
to pinch me."
"But I did not make you cry."
"Yes you did, though. In truth, I was unstrung, and you were so kind and
unlike what any one had ever been to me before, so different from what I
had expected when we were married "--and her lips quivered--"that it
touched me to the quick."
"Why, darling, did you think I was going to be a brute to you?"
"I thought you would be nothing to me, one way or the other--simply forget
me, and be utterly indifferent so long as I kept your clothes made and
mended, and did not bother you about my wants or tastes or opinions."
A flush came over his face at the truth of her words. It would have been
just so had he found her what he expected her to be; but he said, "I don't
think any one could treat you like that, little girl.
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