"
"But where will you go? And why did you not tell me
this before?"
"I haven't an idea where I shall lay my poor old
head. In the lap of the gods, probably, for I don't know
how I shall find the time to interview landladies and
pack my belongings in seven short days. The book will
have to suffer for it. Just when it was getting along so
beautifully, too."
There was a dangerous tenderness in Von Gerhard's
eyes as he said: "Again you are a wanderer, eh--small
one? That you, with your love of beautiful things, and
your fastidiousness, should have to live in this way--in
these boarding-houses, alone, with not even the comforts
that should be yours. Ach, Kindchen, you were not made
for that. You were intended for the home, with a husband,
and kinder, and all that is truly worth while."
I swallowed a lump in my throat as I shrugged my
shoulders. "Pooh! Any woman can have a husband and
babies," I retorted, wickedly. "But mighty few women can
write a book. It's a special curse."
"And you prefer this life--this existence, to the
things that I offer you! You would endure these
hardships rather than give up the nonsensical views which
you entertain toward your--"
"Please.
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