"Yet you love me, and promise to be my wife—why don't you say it right out?" he says.
She shakes her head.
"But your names?"
"Oh," he says, carelessly. "There's a string of 'em. Yorke, Clarence, Fitzhardinge Auchester—"
"And Rothbury," she says, with sudden gravity.
He starts slightly, and colors. This foolish whim of the duke's! What is to be done about it now?
"Duke of Rothbury," she goes on, gravely, and with an almost troubled smile. "I—I had forgotten——."
"Go on forgetting!" he says, drawing her arm closer.
"Yes! I—you will not be angry?"