"I've lived in countries where they knew how to manage women,"
Lawrence muttered.
"With a whip?"
"No."
"What a pity!"
"No, the other method is more effective."
"You terrify me," her eyes were sparkling now like a diamond. "Don't fling any more of those dark threats at me or I shall never marry you at all. Some day you'll be madly jealous of me like Major Clowes—you are like him: you could be just as brutal: and I'm not like Laura—and you'll lure me out of England and wreak a mysterious vengeance."
"I wish we were out of England now."
"So do I. Oh Lawrence, I'd sell my soul to go to Egypt!"
"Red-hot days and blue sands in the moonlight. Shall I take you there for our honeymoon?"
"Or Spain: or Sicily: or what about Majorea?— Let's slip off alone in a nom de plume and an aeroplane to some place where no one ever goes, all roses and lemon thyme and honey-coloured cliffs and a bay of blue sea—"