“It is a bower,” said he, warmly.
This encouraged Zoe, and she said, “Is there not a wonderful charm in cottages? I often think I should like to live in Marks's. Have you ever had that feeling?”
“Never. But I have it now. I should like to live in it—with you.”
Zoe blushed like a rose, but turned it off. “You would soon wish yourself back again at Vizard Court,” said she. “Fanny—Fanny!” and she stood still.
Fanny came up. “Well, what is the matter now?” said she, with pert, yet thoroughly apathetic, indifference.
“The matter is—extravagances. Here is a man of the world pretending he would like to end his days in Marks's cottage.”
“Stop a bit. It was to be with somebody I loved. And wouldn't you, Miss Dover?”
“Oh dear, no. We should be sure to quarrel, cooped up in such a mite of a place. No; give me Vizard Court, and plenty of money, and the man of my heart.”
“You have not got one, I'm afraid,” said Zoe, “or you would not put him last.”
“Why not? when he is of the last importance,” said Fanny, flippantly, and turned the laugh her way.