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Oemler, Marie Conway, 1879-1932

"A Woman Named Smith"

I love to wait on you, Richard," she added,
and a beautiful color flooded her face.
He caught his breath. When she went back to the house, his eyes
followed her adoringly.
"Sophy," he said, huskily, "what does she see in me? Do you think
I'm good enough for _her_, Sophy?"
"I think you are quite good enough even for Alicia."
When he had gone, Alicia sat with her head against my knees. Of late
a touching gravity, a sweet seriousness, had settled upon her. Her
love for the big doctor was singularly clear-eyed and far-seeing.
There were going to be times when every ounce of skill, tact,
patience, love itself, would be called upon, for the reins must be
gossamer-light, invisible, but always firm and sure, that should
guide and tone down so impatient and fiery a nature as his. It was
very easy to love him; it wasn't always going to be easy to live
with him, and Alicia knew it. But she also knew, with a faith beyond
all failing, that this was her high, destined, heaven-ordained job.
"Sophy darlin', I'm deplorably young, am I not?" she sighed.
"You'll get over it."
"Do you think I'll make him a good wife, Sophy?"
"I am absolutely certain," I said, "that you'll make him a good
husband.


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