"Don't know," repeated her friend, in a tone of exasperation. "My dear good child, do try and rouse yourself, and think."
"I think," said the girl, speaking very deliberately and as if talking was an immense effort, "that he is going away the day after to-morrow."
"And you too?"
"I suppose so," assented the bride, in a tone of stolid indifference.
"Good heavens—you 'suppose,' and you 'don't know.' Have you talked it over together?"
"No," was the whispered reply.
Mrs. Ffinch threw up her shapely hands with a gesture of despair.
"This private marriage has taken place simply because your father saved your husband's life."
"Don't call him my husband!" burst out Nancy, with a lightning flash of her former self.
"Well, dear, I won't, if you don't like it. Your poor Daddy has left you alone—and from what I hear—almost penniless."