“I’m as fond of her as you are, Evelyn,” he said, with evident sincerity. “Never fear! I couldn’t love her more if she were my own daughter.”
“You couldn’t be kinder to her, Jack,” said the young woman, in affectionate agreement. “Oh, my dear, we are very fortunate, both of us, Dorothy and I! Without you!” she sighed. “A whole year! A whole year of perfect happiness! I thought I was happy before—but I did not know what happiness was—until it began a year ago to-day!”
He smiled.
“Nor I, Evelyn. Looking back, it seems that I only began to live on the day I married you.” He glanced around him. “A year ago!—You were right, dear, to have our little dinner here to-night, and not at River Lawn. You were right to keep this place going—it reminds us both of our starting-point.” His tone warmed with affection. “But then, you are always right!”
She beamed with gratitude.
“I wanted to keep it because it was my home—it was what I brought to you. You gave me our home at River Lawn, Jack—and you know how I love it. But this—this is where you came to me, and it’s all sacred to me. I couldn’t bear to change a thing in it. Besides,” she added, smilingly lifting her argument out of sentimentality, “it is really an economy, isn’t it? With your work we must have a city home as well. Why change this flat for another which would perhaps be less convenient, and which we should have to refurnish?”
“Quite,” he agreed. “I gave into you about it long ago. But I didn’t like it at first, I’ll admit.”
“You are too big a man, Jack, dear, to be jealous of the past. And I am sure Harry would not mind, if he could know.” Her eyes looked past him, dreamily reminiscent. “Poor old Harry!” she said, after a little silence.
“I should like to have met him,” he said, conversationally, getting on with his fish. “He must have been a good chap.”