He smiled fondly at her. Gravely he said:
"But, Laura, dear, we must come to some distinct understanding before we start to make our plans. We're not children."
"No, we're not," she assented positively.
Rising from his knee, she went to the side of the porch and, leaning her elbows on the balustrade, gazed meditatively out into the valley.
"Now, in the first place," he continued, "we'll discuss you, and in the second place we'll discuss me. We'll keep nothing from each other, and we'll start out on this campaign of decency and honor, fully understanding its responsibilities, without a chance of a come-back on either side."
Laura turned and looked at him. Her face was pale and serious. Yes, plain words must be spoken between them and the proper time was now—so he might yet draw back, if he found he could not take her as she was.
"You mean," she said in a tone so low that he hardly caught it, "that we should tell each other all about each other so, no matter what is said about us by other people, we'll know it first."
Madison rose and paced the porch nervously:
"That's precisely what I'm trying to get at," he said.
The girl was silent for a moment; then hesitatingly she said: