"Yes," he said, "I think likely he might.
Course 'twouldn't be any great of a place, not at first--nor ever,
I cal'late, so far as that goes. 'Tain't a very big bank and wages
ain't--"
But she interrupted. "But that doesn't make any difference," she
cried. "Don't you see it doesn't! The salary and all that won't
count--now. It will be a start for Charles, an opportunity for him
to feel that he is a man again, doing a man's work, an honest man's
work. And he will be here where I can be with him, where we can be
together, where it won't be so hard for us to be poor and where
there will be no one who knows us, who knows our story. Oh, Mr.
Winslow, is it really true? If it is, how--how can we ever thank
you? How can I ever show you how grateful I feel?"
Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted and joy shone in her eager
eyes. Her voice broke a little as she uttered the words. Jed
looked at her and then quickly looked away.
"I--I--don't talk so, Mrs. Armstrong," he pleaded, hastily. "It--
it ain't anything, it ain't really. It just--"
"Not anything? Not anything to find my brother the opportunity he
and I have been praying for? To give me the opportunity of having
him with me? Isn't that anything? It is everything. Oh, Mr.
Winslow, if you can do this for us--"
"Shsh! Sshh! Now, Mrs. Armstrong, please.
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