Dr. von
Gerhard will tell you how well and strong I am. Won't
you, Herr Doktor?"
Well," said Von Gerhard, in his careful, deliberate
English, "since you ask me, I should say that you might
last about one year, in New York."
"There! What did I tell you!" cried Norah.
"What utter blither!" I scoffed, turning to glare at
Von Gerhard.
"Gently," warned Max. "Such disrespect to the man
who pulled you back from the edge of the yawning grave
only six months ago!"
"Yawning fiddlesticks!" snapped I, elegantly. "There
was nothing wrong with me except that I wanted to be
fussed over. And I have been. And I've loved it. But
it must stop now." I rose and walked over to the table
and faced Von Gerhard, sitting there in the depths of a
great chair. "You do not seem to realize that I am not
free to come and go, and work and play, and laugh and
live like other women. There is my living to make. And
there is--Peter Orme. Do you think that I could stay on
here like this? Oh, I know that Max is not a poor man.
But he is not a rich man, either. And there are the
children to be educated, and besides, Max married Norah
O'Hara, not the whole O'Hara tribe. I want to go to
work.
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