But Ulrich's room was not stuffy or heavy. The windows were wide open,
and the walls were white, and the cover on the canopy bed was white,
and there were two pictures, one of Lincoln and one of Washington, and
that was all.
"And when I have your picture, it will be perfect," he told her.
"Where I can see you when I wake, and pray to you before I go to sleep."
"But why," she probed daringly, "do you want my picture?"
"Because you are so--beautiful--"
It was not to be wondered that such worship went to Miss Emily's head.
She slipped out of the dried sheath of the years which had saddened and
aged her, and emerged lovely as a flower over which the winter has
passed and which blooms again.
"I don't want to change anything," Emily told her lover as they went
downstairs, "at least not very much. I shall keep all of the lovely
old carved things--with the fat cupids."
As she lay awake that night, reviewing it all, she thought suddenly of
Bruce McKenzie's letter in her apron pocket. The apron was in the Toy
Shop, and it was not therefore until the next morning that she read the
letter.
In it Dr.
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