Dick, don't be selfish. I think I see my way to
a little success next year. Don't take it away from me."
"I beg your pardon, darling. It's my fault for speaking stupidly. I can't
expect you to throw up all your life just because I'm back. I'll go to my own
place and wait a little."
"But, Dick, I don't want you to--go--out of--my life, now you've just come
back."
"I'm at your orders; forgive me." Dick devoured the troubled little face with
his eyes. There was triumph in them, because he could not conceive that Maisie
should refuse sooner or later to love him, since he loved her.
"It's wrong of me," said Maisie, more slowly than before; "it's wrong and
selfish; but, oh, I've been so lonely! No, you misunderstand. Now I've seen you
again,--it's absurd, but I want to keep you in my life."
"Naturally. We belong."
"We don't; but you always understood me, and there is so much in my work that
you could help me in. You know things and the ways of doing things. You must."
"I do, I fancy, or else I don't know myself. Then you won't care to lose sight
of me altogether, and--you want me to help you in your work?"
"Yes; but remember, Dick, nothing will ever come of it. That's why I feel so
selfish. Can't things stay as they are? I do want your help.
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