Tom just sat and looked at Polly as if he found it difficult to believe that the winter of his discontent had ended in this glorious spring.

But Polly, being a true woman, asked questions, even while she laughed and cried for joy.
"Now, Tom, how could I know you loved me when you went away and never said a word ?" she began, in a tenderly reproachful tone, thinking of the hard year she had spent.
"And how could I have the courage to say a word, when I had nothing on the face of the earth to offer you but my worthless self ?" answered Tom, warmly.
"That was all I wanted!" whispered Polly, in a tone which caused him to feel that the race of angels was not entirely extinct.
"I 've always been fond of you, my Polly, but I never realized how fond till just before I went away.

I was n't free, you know, and besides I had a strong impression that you liked Sydney in spite of the damper which Fan hinted you gave him last winter.

He 's such a capital fellow, I really don't see how you could help it." "It is strange; I don't understand it myself; but women are queer creatures, and there 's no accounting for their tastes," said Polly, with a sly look, which Tom fully appreciated.
"You were so good to me those last days, that I came very near speaking out, but could n't bear to seem to be offering you a poor, disgraced sort of fellow, whom Trix would n't have, and no one seemed to think worth much.

'No,' I said to myself, 'Polly ought to have the best; if Syd can get her, let him, and I won't say a word.