“Yes,” said Agatha sharply, “but I am not Henrietta.”
“No, thank Heaven,” he assented placidly.
Agatha was struck with remorse. “That was a vile thing for me to say,” she said; “and for you too.”
“Whatever is true is to the purpose, vile or not. Will you come to Geneva on the twenty-fourth?”
“But—I really was not thinking when I—I did not intend to say that I would—I—”
“I know. You will come if we are married.”
“Yes. IF we are married.”
“We shall be married. Do not write either to your mother or Jansenius until I ask you.”
“I don’t intend to. I have nothing to write about.”
“Wretch that you are! And do not be jealous if you catch me making love to Lady Brandon. I always do so; she expects it.”