“Well, we can have a change sometimes, of course; but that is what you must wear whenever you want to be particularly swell.”
“I’m quite agreeable. Only you must make me a rather considerable allowance, I must tell you.”
“No, I don’t believe in allowances. I shall give you a cheque-book of your own, and you shall draw whatever you want, without being beholden to anybody. There should be no bargaining between husband and wife.”
“If husbands did like that, Tom, I’m afraid the wives would get dreadfully demoralized. Why, I can’t add up money at all—I don’t know why, but I never could—and I should very likely ruin you without knowing it.”
“How jolly it will be!” murmured Tom, meditatively.
“Being ruined?”
“No, being a husband, and having a wife. I suppose I shall come to England for you and we shall be married there. Mind now, Kitty, lots of men will want to make love to you when you get home and into society. Don’t you let them, there’s a good girl.”
“It doesn’t matter what they do, I suppose, if I don’t make love to them.”
“Doesn’t it, though, by Jove! when I’m not there to send them about their business! Do you know, I’m sorry you haven’t been out and got all that over. I should like to feel you had chosen me out of the whole world, as I have chosen you.”
“And pray haven’t I? We’ll wait, if you like, and not be engaged until I have gone through two or three London seasons—if mother lets me have London seasons, that is. I am quite ready.”