"I can't get them for myself, and--and--" "Don't you love me ?" A pink flush stole to Marie's face.
"Indeed I do, dearly." "Don't I love you ?" The flush deepened.
"I--I hope so." "Then why won't you let me do what I want to, and be happy in it?
Money, just money, isn't any good unless you can exchange it for something you want.

And just now I want pink roses and ice cream and lace flounces for you.

Marie,"-- Billy's voice trembled a little--"I never had a sister till I had you, and I have had such a good time buying things that I thought you wanted! But, of course, if you don't want them--" The words ended in a choking sob, and down went Billy's head into her folded arms on the desk before her.
Marie sprang to her feet and cuddled the bowed head in a loving embrace.
"But I do want them, dear; I want them all--every single one," she urged.

"Now promise me--promise me that you'll do them all, just as you'd planned! You will, won't you ?" There was the briefest of hesitations, then came the muffled reply: "Yes--if you really want them." "I do, dear--indeed I do.

I love pretty weddings, and I--I always hoped that I could have one--if I ever married.