My work is but beginning and the world is morning."
"This house! Are you tired of it now that it is older? Would you
rather move into a new one?"
"I love this house more and more. No other dwelling could take its
place. Any other could be but a shelter; this is home. And I care more
for it now that the signs of age begin to settle on it. If it were a
ruin, I should love it best!"
She leaned over and looked down at the two setters lying at her feet.
"Do you care less for the dogs of the house as they grow older?"
"I think more of them and take better care of them now that their
hunting days are over."
"The friend of your youth--the friend of your middle age--the
children--your profession--the world of human life--this house--the
dogs of the house--you care more for them all as time passes?"
"I care more for them all as time passes."
Then there came a great stillness in the room--the stillness of all
listening years.
"Am I the only thing that you care less for as time passes?"
There was no reply.
"Am I in the way?"
There was no reply.
"Would you like to go over it all again with another?"
There was no reply.
She had hidden her face in her hands and pressed her head against the
end of the sofa.
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