He told Lilian of his dreams, and she shook her head and smiled.
"It's a nice picture, isn't it?" she said.
"Don't you see it too?" he asked.
"Sometimes. I used to see it quite a lot at one time. Before I knew you."
He showed chagrin. "Oh! wasn't I in it?"
"How could you have been when I hadn't met you? I forget who was the ideal for me at the moment. Lewis Waller, perhaps, or William Gillette." She laughed. "Silly Humphrey, it's the picture you're in love with, and you can put anybody in the arm-chair."
He protested against it, yet all the while he was wondering how she could have known that! He had not considered that point of view himself, nor would he now. It was Lilian he wanted; she was just as beautiful as ever, and nobody else was within his grasp.
He sighed. "I do wish we could settle about—about our marriage. Let's fix it up for next week."
She pretended to be horrified. "Only a week to prepare in! Look at the things I've got to buy. My bottom drawer isn't half full."
"Well!" he said, hopelessly, "when are we going to get married? Do let's try and fix a day."