"Nothing whatever," I replied. "Unless it be to make love, and that, you will remember, is forbidden by our agreement."
She bit her lips, acted as if she were going to say something, and suppressed it, whatever it was.
"If you wish the stipulation removed," I continued, gaily, "there is no better opportunity than this. I believe I could make love, after my long abstinence, in a way that would do me credit."
She turned and surveyed my face for some seconds.
"In the same way you have often made love before, I presume," she said, finally; "and with the same degree of sincerity."
"No," I said, growing sober. "I have never loved a woman till recently. The others were idle fancies. They lasted, on the average, a week, while this—"
"Might last a month?" she interrupted.
"Or an eternity."
"I think we had best talk of something else," she said, uneasily. "In the morning we must begin our work, bright and early. I suppose there will be no beach bathing here, and we can commence before coffee if you wish. I want to be of all possible use while we are together."
"You will never leave me, Marjorie," I answered, "if I am allowed to set the time of your departure. Don't think, I beg, that I would say these things if I did not mean them. I want you for my true and loving wife—understand, that is what I mean—wife; and something tells me that, when you think it over, you will grant my wish."