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She was silent, raw with the shameful thought that the attentive circle might have been criticizing her, laughing at her.

“Don't, please don't worry!” he pleaded.

“Silence.”

“Gosh; I'm sorry I spoke about it. I just meant —— But they were crazy about you. Sam said to me, 'That little lady of yours is the slickest thing that ever came to this town,' he said; and Ma Dawson — I didn't hardly know whether she'd like you or not, she's such a dried-up old bird, but she said, 'Your bride is so quick and bright, I declare, she just wakes me up.'”

Carol liked praise, the flavor and fatness of it, but she was so energetically being sorry for herself that she could not taste this commendation.

“Please! Come on! Cheer up!” His lips said it, his anxious shoulder said it, his arm about her said it, as they halted on the obscure porch of their house.

“Do you care if they think I'm flighty, Will?”

“Me? Why, I wouldn't care if the whole world thought you were this or that or anything else. You're my — well, you're my soul!”