"Then why do you keep me at such a distance, my angel?"
"Ah, bah! think of something else!"
The viscount poured out a bumper of rich port and raised it to his lips.
"Put that wine down, Malcolm, you have had too much already."
He obeyed her and set the glass untasted on the board.
"That's a duck; now you shall have some grapes," she said, and, with pretty, childish grace, she began to pick the ripest grapes from her bunch and to put them one by one into the noble noodle's mouth.
"It is nice to be here, is it not, mon ami?" she smilingly asked.
"Yes, sweet angel!" he sighed languishingly.
"And when one thinks of the black dark and sharp cold and deep snow outside, and of travelers losing their way, and getting buried in the drifts and freezing to death, one feels so happy and comfortable in this warm, light room, eating fruit and drinking wine."
"Yes, sweet angel! but you won't let me have any more wine," said the viscount drowsily.