"Well, I’d get more money and I’d get to see New York, but I don’t like to leave Asaph. He says he needs me." "Do you–do you want to marry Asaph?" "Oh no! I–I like him awfully much, but I–I’m kind of afraid of him, too. But he says he needs me; and Josie’s children need me, he says." "But do you–l-love Asaph?" "Oh no! not the kind of love, that is, that you read about. No, I’m kind of afraid of him. But I’m not expecting the kind of love you read about. I’m wondering what I ought to do?" "And you want me to decide?" "If you only would." "Why do you leave it to me, of all people?" "Because you’re such a fine man; you know so much. I have more–more respect for you than for anybody else I know." "You have!" "Oh yes! Oh yes, indeed!" "And you’ll do what I tell you to?" "Ye-yes, I will." "Promise?" "I promise." "Give me your hand on it." He rose and stood before her and put forth that great palm of his, and she set her slim white fingers in it. And then there must have been an earthquake or something, for suddenly she was swept to her feet and she was enveloped in his big arms and crushed against him, and his big mouth was pressed so fiercely to hers that she could not breathe. She was so frightened that her heart seemed to break. And then she knew nothing till she found herself in the patent rocker, with him kneeling at her side, pleading with her to forgive him for the brute he was. She was very weak and very much afraid of him and entirely bewildered. She wanted to run away, but he would not let her rise. The only thing that eased her was his saying over and over again, "You are the most beautiful thing in this world." She had to laugh at that, and she heard herself saying, "Why, Newt Meldrum, one of us must be crazy!" "I am–crazy with love of you." "But to call me beautiful–poor old Debby!" "You are beautiful; you’re the handsomest woman I know." "Me–with my white hair!" "White roses. I don’t know what’s happened to you. You’re not the woman I talked to at Asaph’s, at all. You’re like a girl–with silver hair–only you’ve got a woman’s big heart, and you haven’t the selfishness of the young, but that kind of wonderful sadness that sweetens a soul more than anything else." Meldrum was as much amazed as Deborah was at hearing such rhapsodies from his matter-of-fact soul. Her comment was prosaic enough. She fell back and sighed. "Well, I guess both of us must be crazy." "I guess we are." He laughed boyishly. "We’d better get married and keep the insanity in one family." "Get married!" she echoed, still befuddled. "And after you telling me what you did!" "Yes, but I didn’t know the Lord was at work on a masterpiece like you–girl, woman, grandmother, child, beauty, brains–all in one."