"No what?" he said quickly.
Nora turned from the shelf where she had been contriving a place to put the things they had brought from the town, and looked at him inquiringly. His face was grave, but a twinkle in his eye betrayed him. She blushed charmingly to the roots of her hair, but her laugh was perfectly frank and good-humored. "I beg your pardon. I was so occupied with arranging my pantry that I forgot my manners. No, thank you."
"One can't be too careful about these important things," he said with rather heavy humor. "When I built this shack," he went on proudly—but the pride was the pride of possession, not of achievement—"I fixed it up so as it would do when I got married. Sid Sharp asked me what in hell I wanted to divide it up in half for, but I guess women like little luxuries like that."
"Like what?"
"Like having a room to sleep in and a room to live in."
"Here's the bread and butter," said Nora abruptly. "Will you have some syrup?"
"S-u-r-e." He got up out of the rocking chair and pulling one of the stools up to the table, sat down.
"The water ought to be boiling by now; what about milk?"
"That's one of the things you'll have to learn to do without till I can afford to buy a cow."
"I can't drink tea without milk."