Sinclair Lewis: Main Street

4. CHAPTER IV (continued)

"Me? Why, I wouldn't care if the whole world thought you were this or that or anything else. You're my--well, you're my soul!"

He was an undefined mass, as solid-seeming as rock. She found his sleeve, pinched it, cried, "I'm glad! It's sweet to be wanted! You must tolerate my frivolousness. You're all I have!"

He lifted her, carried her into the house, and with her arms about his neck she forgot Main Street.