"Such a lot of things to do," she said; "and you are such a help,
Landry. It was so dear of you to want to come."

"I would do anything in the world for you, Laura," he exclaimed,
encouraged by her words; "anything. You know I would. It isn't so
much that I want you to care for me--and I guess I want that bad
enough--but it's because I love to be with you, and be helping you,
and all that sort of thing. Now, all this," he waved a hand at the
confusion of furniture, "all this to-day--I just feel," he declared
with tremendous earnestness, "I just feel as though I were entering
into your life. And just sitting here beside you and putting in
these curtain hooks, I want you to know that it's inspiring to me.
Yes, it is, inspiring; it's elevating. You don't know how it makes a
man feel to have the companionship of a good and lovely woman."

"Landry, as though I were all that. Here, put another hook in here."

She held the fold towards him. But he took her hand as their fingers
touched and raised it to his lips and kissed it. She did not
withdraw it, nor rebuke him, crying out instead, as though occupied
with quite another matter:

"Landry, careful, my dear boy; you'll make me prick my fingers.
Ah--there, you did."

He was all commiseration and self-reproach at once, and turned her
hand palm upwards, looking for the scratch.

"Um!" she breathed. "It hurts."