We can combine work and play."
The manservant had left the room, a sort of library-reception room. Marian
was seated in a big chair drawn near the fire. She had thrown back her
wraps and was slowly drawing off her gloves. Howard stood at the side of
the fire, leaning against the mantel and looking down at her.
"Before you definitely decide to stay--" he paused.
"Yes," she said, her colour heightening as she slowly lifted her eyes to
his, "yes--why this solemn tone?"
"If ever--in the days that come--one never knows what may happen--if ever
you should find that you had changed toward me----"
"Yes?"
"I ask you--don't promise--I never want you to promise me anything--I want
you always--at every moment--to be perfectly free. So I just ask that you
will let me see it. Then we can talk about it frankly, and we can decide
what is best to do."
"But--suppose--you see I might still not wish to wound you--" she
suggested, half teasing, half in earnest.
"It seems to me now that it is impossible that we can ever change. It seems
to me--" he sat on the wide arm of her chair, and leaned over until his
head touched hers, "that if you were to change it would break my heart. But
if you were to change and were to hide it from me, I should find it out
some day and----" "And what----"
"It would be worse--a broken heart, a horror of myself, a--a contempt for
you.
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