"Right away!" she said, and went outside to perform her ablutions.
Sanderson, while she was outside, counted out ten thousand dollars and put it into a pocket.

Then he piled the remainder of the money neatly on the table.

When Mary came in, her face glowing, her hair freshly combed, he stood and looked at her with admiration in his eyes, and a great longing in his heart.
"I've dreamed of seein' you that way," he said.
"As your cook ?" she demanded, reddening.
"A man's grub would taste a heap better if his wife did the cookin'," he said, his face sober.
"Why--why--" she said; "do you mean----" "I wouldn't be finicky if--if my wife was doin' my cookin'," he declared, his own face crimson.

"I wouldn't kick if she gave me the same kind of grub every mornin'-- if it was she I've wanted." "Why, Sanderson! Is this----" "It's a proposal, ma'am.

I can't say what I want to say--what I've figured on sayin' to you.