"You mustn't cry—you mustn't," he said in a husky voice.
"I don't know," she kept repeating. "I don't know what I'm to do. I'm so tired."
He sat down beside her, thankful suddenly that the room was dark, for in the darkness courtship was always easier, especially after middle-age. He now took her hand in both his. There was a long silence in which she gained control of herself, and she did not withdraw her hand nor resist in any way.
"Mrs. Downes," he said presently in a husky voice. "Emma. . . . Mrs. Downes. . . . I have something to ask you. I'm a sober, middle-aged man, and I've thought it over for a long time." He cleared his throat and gave her hand a gentle pressure. "I want you to Marry me."
She had known all along that it was coming. Indeed, it was almost like being a girl once more to see Moses Slade, man-like, working his way with the grace of an elephant toward the point; but now it came with the shock of surprise. She couldn't answer him at once for the choke in her throat. For weeks she had borne so much, known such waves of sorrow, that something of her unflagging spirit was broken. She thought, "At last, I am to have my reward for years of hard work. God is rewarding me for all my suffering."
She began to cry again, and Moses Slade asked quickly, "You aren't going to refuse—with all I can give you. . . ."
"No," she sobbed, and, leaning forward a little, as if for support, placed her free hand upon his fat knee. "No . . . I'm not going to refuse . . . only I can't quite believe it. . . . I've had such a hard time. I'd
