In some ways Tom Pollard is the most congenial man I ever knew. I truly
try to make him be serious about the important things in life, like
going to church with his mother and working all day, even if he is rich.
I wish he wasn't so near kin to me! Now, there, I feel in Ruth Clinton's
way again!

I suppose I really would be doing the right thing to marry Mr. Graves,
and I should adore all those children to start with, but I know Billy
wouldn't get on with them at all. I can't even consider it on his
account, but I'll let the nice old gentleman come for a few times more
to see me, for he really is interesting, and we have suffered things in
common. Mrs. Graves lacked the kind of temperament poor Mr. Carter did.
I'd like to make it all up to him, but if Billy wouldn't be happy, that
settles it, and I don't know how good his boys are. I couldn't have
Billy corrupted.

And so, as there is nobody else exactly suitable in town, it all simmers
down to one or the other of these or Alfred. In my heart I knew that I
couldn't hesitate a minute--and in the flash of a second I _decided_.
Of course I love Alfred, and I'll take him gladly and be the wife he has
waited for all these six lonely years. I'll make everything up to him,
if I have to diet to keep thin for him the rest of my life. Probably
I shall have that very thing to do, and I get weak at the idea. Before
I burn this book I'll have to copy it all out and be chained to it for
life. At the thought my heart dropped like a sinker to my toes; but I
hauled it up to its normal place with picturing to myself how Alfred
would look when he saw me in that old blue muslin remade into a Rene
wonder. However, my old heart would show a strange propensity for
sinking down into my slippers without any reason at all. Tears were even