“Very well, you can have it,” said Jo, handing back the story with a satisfied air, for after the dollar-a-column work, even twenty-five seemed good pay.
And thus–not much changed–she, as innocent and earnest-hearted–he, as frank, as hopeful, and more proud of her–Florence and Walter, on their bridal morning, walk through the streets together.
Not even in that childish walk of long ago, were they so far jarred from all the world about them as to-day. The childish feet of long ago, did not tread such enchanted ground as theirs do now. The confidence and love of children may be given many times, and will spring up in many places; but the woman’s heart of Florence, with its undivided treasure, can be yielded only once, and under slight or change, can only droop and die.