Rettes she had bought with what she saved out of the housekeeping
money. So then she tried to picture herself allowing the reins of Jo's
house to remain in Eva's hands. And everything feminine and normal in
her rebelled. Emily knew she'd want to put away her own freshly
laundered linen, and smooth it, and pat it. She was that
kind of woman. She knew she'd want to do her
own delightful haggling with butcher and vegetable
peddler. She knew she'd want to muss Jo's hair, and sit on
his knee, and even quarrel with him, if necessary, without the
awareness of three ever-present pairs of maiden eyes and ears. "No!
No! We'd only be miserable.
I know. Even if they didn't object. And they would, Jo. Wouldn't
they?" His silence was miserable assent. Then, "But you do love me,
don't you, Emily?" "I do, Jo. I love
you--and love you--and love you. But, Jo, I--can't." "I know it, dear.
I knew it all the time, really. I just thought, maybe, somehow--" The
two sat staring for a moment into space, their hands clasped. Then
they both shut their eyes, with a little shudder, as though what they
saw was terrible to look upon. Emily's hand, the tiny hand that was s
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