The things we do!

"You are ill," he said. "Your eyes
shine. I know. It's the fever. It isn't any time now for you to
talk. Besides, until you believe me, I can not talk with you any
more. I've been a little rough, maybe, I don't know; but as God
made this world, those trees, that sun yonder, I never said a word
to you yet that wasn't true. I've never wanted of you what wasn't
right, in my own creed. Sometimes we have to frame up a creed all
for ourselves, don't you know that? The world isn't always run on
the same lines everywhere. It's different, in places."
"Will you tell me all about it--about her, sometime?"
"If you are going away, why should you ask that? If you are going
to be nothing to me, in all the world, what right have you to ask
that of me? You would not have the right I've had in speaking to
you as I have. That was right. It was the right of love. I love
you! I don't care if all the world knows it. Let that girl there
hear if she likes. I've said, we belong together, and it seems
truth to me, the very truth; yes, and the very right itself.


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