He tightens his arm about her, and considering, I dare say, she owes him some return for so humble a speech—stoops as though to put his lips to hers.
"Not yet," she says, pressing her fingers against his mouth. "I have many things to say to you yet before—— For one, I am not a coquette?"
"No."
"And you are not going abroad to—forget me? Oh, Teddy!"
"If I went to the world's end I could not compass that. No, I shall not go abroad now."
"And"—half removing the barring fingers—"I am the dearest, sweetest, best Molly to be found anywhere?"
"Oh, darling! don't you know I think so?" says Luttrell, with passionate fondness.
"And you will never forgive yourself for making me so unhappy?"
"Never."
"Very well,"—taking away her hand, with a contented sigh,—"now you may kiss me."