But--she listened.
His definiteness was itself effective. She herself did not know what she
wanted. Something was wrong; or rather, everything was. She was finding
life a great bore. But what would be right, she couldn't say, except that
it must be different.
Guy looked sure and seasoned as he poured out his plans; and together with
the maturing tan and breadth from his rough life, there was an
unconquerable boyishness in the lift of his head and the light of his eyes.
"This enthusiasm is truly beautiful!" she teased.
It was, in truth, infectious.
Why! it was love she had wanted. The four years had been so empty--without
Guy.
She went into it alert, receptive, optimistic. But it nettled her that
everybody should be so congratulatory, and nobody surprised. It wasn't what
_she_ would call ideal for two impoverished young aristocrats to start life
on nothing but affection and self-confidence.
It did seem as if the choicest fruit always came to _her_ specked.
"Never mind," Guy encouraged her. "Just give me ten years. It will be a
little hard on you at first, Bibi dear, I know, but it would be harder at
your father's now.
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