He colored and looked rather guilty; then he raised his eyes to hers boldly.
"Yes, next season. You are going to marry me soon, you know, Madge!"
"Soon?" she repeated dreamily. "Two years, five years hence will be soon."
"Oh, will it?" he remarked, aghast. "Why, Madge, Austin says we ought to be married next month."
Margaret almost dropped her pencil, and stared at him; then her eyelids fell, and the warm color spread over her face and neck.
"And yet you are always boasting that Austin Ambrose never talks nonsense!" she said, with gentle irony.
"But is it such nonsense, dear?" he urged, putting his arm around her waist, and looking up at her downcast face. "I don't think it is nonsense at all! If you knew how long even a few weeks seem to me—but I don't put it that way. But, remember, my darling, that this is all very well down here; I can run down and spend some hours with you—how short they seem, heigh ho!—but you will be going to London directly——"
"Directly I have finished this picture—next week," she put in gently.
"So soon?" he said, sadly. "Well then we sha'n't be able to see so much of each other; at least, Austin says we mustn't."