"You have not told me a word about that," she said forlornly.
"I didn't mean to tell you a word until to-morrow came," he said. "You are not to brood."
"You mean to rush me into everything," she said. "If I am to be the companion to you that I want to be, you ought to take me into your confidence."
"Why, there!" he said, "I believe I ought. You're brave. You're not like other girls. You can imagine that I have had a busy day. I have a special license, signed by no less a person than the Archbishop of Canterbury. Think of that! And we are going to be married in a church. I knew you would like that; and I like it better too. You see I have been thinking of you all the time. Now you mustn't worry any more." He patted her hand. "Go to bed and get a good sleep. I'll come round at ten o'clock to-morrow morning, and we're to be married at eleven. Then a new life begins, and by the Lord I'll make it a happy one for you. Come, give me a smile before I go."
She had no difficulty in doing that now. He took her chin in his fingers, turned her face up to his and looked into her eyes earnestly. Then he left her.
She had finished her breakfast, which had been cleared away, when he came in to her the next morning. She was sitting in a chair by the empty grate with her hands in her lap, and she looked pale.
Mackenzie had on a frock coat, and laid a new silk hat and a new pair of gloves on the table as he greeted her with unsentimental cheerfulness.
"Will you sit down?" she said, regarding him with serious eyes. "I want to ask you some questions."
He threw a shrewd glance at her. "Ask away," he said in the same loud, cheerful tone, and took his seat opposite to her, carefully disposing of the skirts of his coat, which looked too big even for his big frame.
"I have been thinking a great deal," she said. "I want to know exactly what my life is to be if I marry you."