"That nice little donkey of yours would come in useful here," he observed, as he handed his fiancée to the ground.
She tucked her hand engagingly inside his arm. "Ah! but isn't the park lovely? And look at all those rabbits! No, no, Cinders! You mustn't! Trevor, you do like it?"
"I like it immensely," he answered.
His eyes looked out over the wide, rough stretch of ground before him that was more like common land than private property, dwelt upon a belt of trees that crowned a distant rise, scanned the overgrown carriage-road to where it ended before a grey turret that was half-hidden by a great cedar, finally came back to the sparkling face by his side.
"So this is to be our—home, Chris?" he said.
"Isn't it beautiful?" she said proudly. "Oh, Trevor, you don't know what it means to me to feel it isn't going to be sold after all."
He smiled. "I understood it was going to be sold and presented to my wife for a wedding-gift."
She turned her face up to his. "Trevor, you don't think I'm ungrateful too, do you?"
"My darling," he said, "I think that gratitude between you and me is out of place at any time. Remember, though I give you this and a thousand other things, you are giving me—all you have."
She pressed his arm shyly. "It doesn't seem very much, does it?" she said.