"How handsome he is; I wonder if he thought me uneven," mused Mrs. Dale, as she left the library.
"Thank heaven, they are all despatched," he said, fervently, leaning over the back of her chair; "look around at me, dear, and tell me I am welcome."
"You are;" and turning her face, her cheek was brushed by his whiskers; "but I am going to be very proper, and tell you to take that very comfortable chair, at the other side of the room."
"Why, what have I done; don't send me away, when my heart is bursting to take you in my arms."
"With your temperament, how full, metaphorically speaking, your arms must be."
"No, no; you only, with your warm eyes and handsome mouth."
"Come, come; no more of this, Mr. King."
"Since when have you dropped Cyril; I cannot bear my surname from your lips."
"'Tis safer so; and you know I have tried to act up to this, since knowing you have a wife."
"Yes, yes, you have; but you magnetized me from the first, and had it not been for that meddling fellow, Dubois, telling you, I believe, dearest, you would have learned to love me, wholly, and alone."