't matter."
They talked late about Jarvis's work, his methods of writing, the length
of time it took him to conceive and work out a play. It all fascinated
Bambi. She felt that a wonderful interest had come into her life. A new
thing was to be created, each day, under her roof, near her. She was to
have part in it, help in its shaping to perfection. She gloated over the
days to come, and a warm rush of gratitude to Jarvis for bringing her
this sense of his need of her made her burst out:
"Oh, life is such fun!"
He looked at her closely.
"You are a queer little mite," said he.
"The mite is mightier than the sword," she laughed, starting for the
garden. "You go to bed, so you can get an early start on that play. I'll
round up the Professor. He's forgotten to bring himself in."
He obeyed without objection. He felt, all at once, like a ship at anchor
after long years of floating aimlessly, but, manlike, he took his good
fortune as his just right, and it never occurred to him to thank Bambi
for his new sense of peace and well-being.
IV
The marriage of Jarvis and Bambi furnished the town with a ten days'
topic of conversation, a fact to which they were perfectly indifferent.
Then it was accepted, as any other wonder, such as a comet passing, or
an airship disaster.
In the meantime the strangely assorted trio fell into a more or less
comfortable relationship. Jarvis and the Professor almost came to blows,
but for the most part the diplomatic Bambi kept peace. Both men appealed
to her for everything and she took care of them like babies. She called
them the "Heavenly Twins" and found endless amusement in their
dependence on her. Sometimes she did not see Jarvis for days. His study
and bedroom were on the top floor, and when he was in a work fit he
forgot to come to meals. She let him alone, only seeing that he ate what
she sent up to him. Sometimes his light burned all night. She would go
to the foot of the stairs and listen to him reading scenes aloud in the
early dawn, but she never interfered with him in any way. He plunged
into the remaking of "Success" with characteristic abandon. He destroyed
the old version entirely, and began on a new one. When he had the
framework completed, he summoned Bambi for a private view. She condemned
certain parts, praised others, flashed new thoughts upon him, forced him
to new viewpoints. He raved at her, defended his ideas, refuted her
arguments, and invariably accep
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