"Nearly as happy as I have made you!" says her husband, severely.
"Dear me, Freddy—I really do wish you would try and forget yourself for one moment!"
"I might be able to do that, my dear, if I were quite sure that you were not forgetting me, too."
"Oh, as to that! I declare you are a perfect baby! You love teasing. Well—there then!" The "there" represents a kiss, and Mr. Monkton, having graciously accepted this tribute to his charms, condescends to come down from his mental elevation and discuss the new engagement with considerable affability. Once, indeed, there is a dangerous lapse back into his old style, but this time there seems to be occasion for it.
"When they stood there stammering and stuttering, Freddy, and looking so awfully silly, I declare I was so glad about it that I actually kissed him!'"
"What!" says Mr. Monkton. "And you have lived to tell the tale! You have, therefore; lived too long. Perfidious woman, prepare for death."
"I declare I think you'd have done it," says Barbara, eloquently. Whereupon, having reconsidered her speech, they both give way to mirth.
"I'll try it when I see him," says Monkton. "Even a hero of romance couldn't object to a chaste salute from me."
"He is coming to dinner. I hope when you do see him. Freddy,"—anxiously this—"you will be very sober about it."
"Barbara! You know I never get—er—that is—not before dinner at all events."