“Oh, but I am so delighted with the bare fact of our getting away so soon, that all things else seem of no account to me!” joyously exclaimed Sybil, going on with her packing.
The next morning Lyon went out alone to make a few more purchases for their voyage. While he was going around, he also bought all the daily papers that he could get hold of. He returned to Sybil at an early hour of the forenoon. He found her sitting down in idleness.
“Got entirely through packing, my darling?” he inquired cheerfully.
“Oh, yes, and I have nothing on earth to do now. How long this last day will seem! At what hour may we go on board, this evening?”
“At sundown.”
“Oh, that it were now sundown! How shall we contrive to pass the time until then?”
“This will help us to pass the day, dear wife,” he answered, laying the pile of newspapers on the table between them.
Each took up a paper and began to look over it.
Lyon was deep in a political article, when a cry from Sybil startled him.
“What is the matter?” he inquired, in alarm.