“I wouldn’t marry you,—I said I wouldn’t and I won’t. You’re too young.”
“But you’ve promised to marry me some day.”
“Yes, I know—but not till—not till—”
“Not till when?”
“I haven’t just decided,” said Mrs. Rosscott, airily. “Not for a good while, not until you seem to require marrying at my hands.”
“I never shall require marrying at anyone else’s hands,” the lover vowed, “but if you are so set about it as all that comes to, I shall not cut up rough for a while. Aunt Mary is the main question just now—not you.”
“I know,” said his lady in anything but a jealous tone, “and as she is the question, what are we to do?”
“You will go to bed,” he said, kissing her, “and I will go to think.”
“Can you see any way?” she asked anxiously.
Then he put his hands on either side of her face and turned it up to his own.