"Here is something at you--it is tearing at you--it has got to be
met. Even now women are waking up in bed and turning the matter over in
their minds. To-morrow they will be at you again. There is but one way and
we must take it. You and I will have to marry."
Mary looked at the serious new lines of his face.
"What a proposal!" she cried.
On an impulse she began singing, her voice fine and strong running through
the quiet night.
"He rode and he thought of her red, red lips,"
she sang, and laughed again.
"You should come like that," she said, and then, "you poor muddled boy.
Don't you know that I am your new mother?" she added, taking hold of his
two arms and turning him about facing her. "Don't be absurd. I don't want
a husband or a lover. I want a son of my own and I have found him. I
adopted you here in this house that night when you came to me sick and
covered with mud. As for these women--away with them--I'll face them down
--I did it once before and I'll do it again. Go to your city and make your
fight. Here in Caxton it is a woman's fight."
"It is horrible. You don't understand," Sam protested.
A grey, tired look came into Mary Underwood's face.
"I understand," she said.
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