She waited, and felt her husband's arm pass around her shoulder and under her own arm, and yielded to his drawing down of her to him.
"You did have me worried more than a bit," he admitted, "until I was afraid I was going to lose you. And.. " He broke off in patent embarrassment, then gripped the idea courageously. "Oh, well, you know you're my one woman. Enough said."
She fumbled the match-box from his pocket and struck a match to enable him to light his long-extinct cigar.
"Well," he said, as the smoke curled about them, "knowing you as I know you, and ALL of you, all I can say is that I'm sorry for Sonny for what he's missed – awfully sorry for him, but equally glad for me. And.. one other thing: five years hence I've something to tell you, something rich, something ridiculously rich, and all about me and the foolishness of me over you. Five years. Is it a date?"
"I shall keep it if it is fifty years," she sighed, as she nestled closer to him.
GLEN ELLEN, CALIFORNIA.
August 17, 1916.
Bu va yana 2 ta kitob 399 UZS