She could not rush to Ephraim without invitation, because it was not for his sake but for her own she wanted to go.

She believed that Smith knew it.

She felt thankful, as he had dared to accuse her of not loving her husband, that he had the kindness not to accuse her of this.
A certain awe of Smith came over her; he could be violent with those who were violent, coarse and jocular with his public who could be worked upon thus, but to her he spoke delicately, and he had shown her at times before this that he knew her better than she knew herself.
"Sister Susannah," said Smith humbly, "it's my fault that you've become the brainy woman that you are, for I encouraged you at book learning (knowing as how when you found your heart 'twould shine with the more lustre), but if you were to go and live along side of a man as is a bookworm you'd lose your chance of this life (let alone your soul's salvation by the apostasy which you think lightly of now).

Anyhow I'd wait if I was you till his mother asks you, for she'd be in an awful taking if you and he were talk, talk, talking of what she didn't understand.

And he is her only son, and she is a widow." With this last phrase, which had a good and Scriptural sound, Smith had done.
Susannah gave him her hand in farewell, and listened gently while again he told her, as on the night of his flight from Kirtland, that his friendship and the friendship of his Church were always at her service.
The prophet walked down the street.