"No, no, certainly not," he was so embarrassed that he spoke quite sharply.
"Oh, are you glad?" She stared at him in amazement and to his disgust Cyril felt himself turning crimson.
"Now I'm sorry," she continued with a soft sigh. "I wish I had a baby. I remember about babies."
"I—I like them, too," he hastened to assure her. Really this was worse than he had expected.
"How long have we been married?" she demanded.
"I have been married four years," he truthfully answered, hoping that that statement would satisfy her.
"Fancy! We have been living together for four years! Isn't it awful that I can only remember you the very weeist little bit! But I will love, honour, and obey you—now that I know—I will indeed."
"I am sure you will always do what is right," said Cyril with a sudden tightening of his throat. She looked so young, so innocent, so serious. Oh, if only——
"Bah, don't waste too much love on me. I'm an unworthy beggar," he said aloud.
"You are an unworthy husband? Oh!" She opened her eyes wide and stared at him in consternation. "But it doesn't say anything in the prayer-book about not loving unworthy husbands. I don't believe it makes any difference to the vow before God. Besides you don't look unworthy—are you sure you are?" she pleaded.