Well, my poor John went, but before he'd done so it was plain to mark that
our old and valued friend, Gregory Sweet, had me upon his mind. Never a
word he said while there was a spark of life in John and never a word he
said afterwards either for a full year, and I liked him the better for it;
but though cautious, he was not a concealer, and never attempted to hide
his regard and hope where I was concerned. A woman knows without words,
being gifted by nature to understand signs and signals, whether of danger,
or the reverse; and so I knew Gregory was very much addicted to me and
only waiting the appointed time to offer. For a long while I thought he
would put the proposal in a letter, and then, remembering his caution and
his terror of the written word, I guessed he'd never so far commit himself
as to set it down. But I was ready and willing, for Greg had a tidy little
greengrocer's business and they counted him a snug man. A bachelor of
sixty-two he was--clean as a new pin of a Sunday and very well thought
upon. A bearded man, with a wrinkled brow and eyes that looked shifty to a
stranger; but 'twas only his undying caution made them so. As straight as
any other greengrocer, and straighter than some. And I was tolerable poor,
but not lacking in gifts to shine, given the chance; and I knew Gregory
inside out, you may say, and felt that in the shop and the home, he'd be a
happier man for my company.
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