"There's no hurry, Sally. Don't let us meet trouble halfway. Duchess, do you love Daddy Dumbrick?"
"Oh, yes," sighed the Duchess, closing her eyes, and leaning back in Seth's arms.
"You don't want to leave him?"
"No," murmured the Duchess.
"Because you see, Sally, the world'd seem a different place to me, not half so good as it was, if anything was to occur as'd take the Duchess away from us."
"No one shall," cried Sally, beginning to share Seth's fears, "no one can!"
"I don't know that," said Seth, with an apprehensive observance of the letter; "they sha'n't if I can help it. If I had plenty of money, which I haven't, you, me, and the Duchess'd steal away one night from Rosemary Lane, and'd go and live in the country, where nobody'd know us, and where we could see green fields and flowers, and breathe the fresh air from morning to night. For that's what our precious wants. Green fields and fresh air'd soon pull her round, and we'd live there happily all our lives."
"Like gipsies, Daddy."
"Yes, Sal, like gipsies."
"That would be nice," said Sally; adding wistfully, "but it can't be, Daddy, can it?"