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"Why should it be strange?","What do you mean?" asked Maurice, turning his still frowning face toward this strange and enigmatic man.,To my dying day I'll never forget that little house, away out on the hillside, he took me to in his shabby little car. Just two tiny rooms, but they were clean and quiet, and a girl with the sweetest face I ever saw, lay in the bed with her eyes bright with pride, and a tiny, tiny little bundle close beside her. The young farmer was red with embarrassment and anxiety.,This has been a happy night, in which I betrothed myself to Alfred, though he doesn't know it yet. I am going to take it as a sign that life for us is going to be brilliant and gay, and full of laughter and love.,"Nobody in the world ever doubted that a woman could be faithful if she had anything to be faithful to," I said as I let him take Billy out of my arms at last. "Faithfulness is what a woman flowers, only it takes a man to pick his posy." With which I marched into the house and left him standing with Billy in his arms, I hope dumbfounded. I didn't look back to see. I always leave that man's presence so mad I can never look back at him. And wouldn't it make any woman rage to have a man pick out another man for her to be faithful to when she hadn't made any decision about it her own self?,Patricia laughed. "He's not so retiring in private," she declared, gayly. "He was one of our happy family for three months last summer and we never noticed any shyness; did we, Norn?",The idea lodged in Patricia's fertile brain was not so easily routed out.,There was a general murmur of surprise and a following rustle of gratification.,"That reminds me," broke out Griffin. "There's a prize for the mud larks, too. I've forgotten what it is, but it'll be posted in the morning. There's your chance, young 'un. You're eligible for it.","I can't help it," I gulped in my sleeve. "I did use to like Alfred Bennett. My heart almost broke when he went away. I used to be beautiful and slim, and now I feel as if my own fat ghost has come to haunt me all my life. I am so ashamed! If a woman can't cry over her own dead beauty, what can she cry over?" By this time I was really crying.,"Judy likes to see herself go by in the mirror," smiled Elinor leniently. "I suppose that's the literary mind.","I doubt that, I doubt that. Jaggard, like yourself, is an old campaigner, and no doubt an alert sleeper; that is," explained Arkel, "he would wake up at the least sound.".