It was the only comfort he
found in his poverty. Marie had brought in the beer and was
carefully filling the mugs. "Why do you not marry her?" she asked
unexpectedly. "Then you could take this flat. We are going to
Semmering for the winter sports. I would show her about the
stove."
"Marry her, of course!" said Peter gravely. "Just pick her up and
carry her to church! The trifling fact that she does not wish to
marry me need have nothing to do with it."
"Ah, but does she not wish it?" demanded Marie. "Are you so
certain, stupid big one? Do not women always love you?"
Ridiculous as the thought was, Peter pondered it as he went back
to the Pension Schwarz. About himself he was absurdly modest,
almost humble. It had never occurred to him that women might care
for him for himself. In his struggling life there had been little
time for women. But about himself as the solution of a
problem--that was different.
He argued the thing over. In the unlikely contingency of the
girl's being willing, was Stewart right--could two people live as
cheaply as one? Marie was an Austrian and knew how to
manage--that was different. And another thing troubled him. He
dreaded to disturb the delicate adjustment of their relationship;
the terra incognita of a young girl's mind daunted him. There was
another consideration which he put resolutely in the back of his
mind--his career. He had seen many a promising one killed by
early marriage, men driven to the hack work of the profession by
the scourge of financial necessity.
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