And she drooped her head, blushing as the young will blush over the same charitable feeling which the old and hardened ostentatiously parade.
Mr. Harper gazed hopelessly around, as if longing any means of escape and solitude. His wife saw him and was pained.
“What—are you tired of me?”
“No, no, dear, Only I am so busy—and have so many things to think about just now.”
“Tell me some of them.”
“What—tell you all my business mysteries,” he returned, playfully. “Didn't you say to me once, before we were married, that you hated secrets, and never could keep one in your life?”
“It is true—quite true. I do hate them,” cried Agatha.
“And for all your smiling, I know you are keeping back something from me now.”
“Foolish little wife!”
“Foolish—but still a wife. Look at me and tell the truth. Is there anything in your heart which I do not know?”