help telling me all the time, any more than I can help telling him.
We're--rather mad about each other, really. I think he's the most
wonderful person in the world, and"--she smiled a little
uncertainly--"he thinks I am. But we've tried to be sensible about it,
and think it out reasonably. We're both strong and healthy, and we like
each other.... I mean--things about each other, like I've said. So, as
far as we can tell, we--fit. He said he couldn't guarantee that we'd be
happy; that no pair of people could be sure of that till they'd tried.
But he said it looked to him like the most wonderful, magnificent
adventure in the world, and asked if it looked to me like that, and I
said it did. Because it's true. It's the only thing in the world that
seems worth--bothering about. And we both think--though, of course, we
can't be sure we're thinking straight--that we've got a good chance to
make it go."

Even her mother's bewildered ears couldn't distrust the sincerity with
which the girl had spoken. But this only increased the bewilderment. She
had listened with a sort of incredulous distaste she couldn't keep her
face from showing, and at last she had to wipe away her tears.

At that Rose came over to her, dropped on the floor at her knees and
embraced her.

"I guess perhaps I understand, mother," she said. "I didn't
realize--you've always been so intellectual and advanced--that you'd
feel that way about it--be shocked because I hadn't pretended not to
care for him and been shy and coy"--in spite of herself, her voice got
an edge of humor in it--"and a startled fawn, you know, running away,
but just not fast enough so that he wouldn't come running after and
think he'd made a wonderful conquest by catching me at last. But a man