"You look tired," she said, with alluring tenderness. "You look more exhausted than I feel. And that is saying a great deal, for I am quite out of breath."
"I am grieved that you feel so, dearest! It was selfish and thoughtless in me to keep you walking so long," said Craven, compunctiously.
"Oh, it is nothing! But about yourself. You really look quite prostrated."
"Do I, dearest? I am not conscious of fatigue. Though indeed I should never be conscious of that by your dear side."
"Now tell the truth," she said, again bringing him down from his flights. "Have you had your breakfast this morning?"
"Breakfast? I—don't remember," he said, with a perplexed air.
"Come to your senses and answer me directly. What have you taken this morning?" she demanded, with a pretty air of authority.
"I—Let me see. I believe I bought a package of lemon-drops from a boy that was selling them in the cars. I—I believe I have got some of them left yet," he said, hesitating, and drawing from his pocket one of those little white packets of candy so commonly sold on the train.
Mary Grey burst into a peal of soft, silvery laughter as she took them, and said:
"An ounce of lemon-drops and nothing else for breakfast! Oh, Cupid, God of Love, and Hebe, Goddess of Health, look here, and settle it between you!"