‘No, no! In any case we shall always have our evenings.’
‘Of course we shall. Dearest, how good you are!’
‘I wish I was,’ he murmured.
I was glad, then, that I had never allowed my portrait to appear in a periodical. We could not prevent the appearance in American newspapers of heralding paragraphs, but the likelihood of our being recognised was sensibly lessened.
‘Can you start soon?’ he asked. ‘Can you be ready?’
‘Any time. The sooner the better, now that it is decided.’
‘You do not regret? We have decided so quickly. Ah! you are the merest girl, and I have taken advantage—’
I put my hand over his mouth. He seized it, and kept it there and kissed it, and his ardent breath ran through my fingers.
‘What about your business?’ I said.
‘I shall confide it to old Tate—tell him some story—he knows quite as much about it as I do. To-morrow I will see to all that. The day after, shall we start? No; to-morrow night. To-morrow night, eh? I’ll run in to-morrow and tell you what I’ve arranged. I must see you to-morrow, early.’