"You do not know when Mr. Lytton and Miss Cavendish are to be married?"
"No, because I do not think they know themselves. But the people say it will be as soon as the young gentleman gets settled in his practice."
"Good again! The delay is favorable," muttered Mary Grey to herself.
"What did you say?" again inquired the ingenuous young man.
"I say the delay is wise, of course."
"Oh, yes; certainly!" assented Mr. Kyte.
"And now tell me about the others," said Mrs. Grey.
But her lover took her hand and gazed into her face, murmuring:
"Oh, my love, my life, let me sit here and hold your thrilling little hand and gaze into your beautiful eyes, and think only of you for a moment!"
She put her hand around his head and drew it toward her and pressed a kiss upon his forehead, and then said: