‘Why, my darling, how is this?’ he exclaimed, ‘is your book so interesting that you cannot tear yourself away from it, or are you not sleepy to-night?’
‘Neither,’ answered Nora, gravely. ‘I was only waiting for my husband.’
‘And now you have your husband,’ he answered playfully, as he cast himself down beside her, ‘what is it?’
‘I want to have a little talk with you Ilfracombe,’ she said, ‘and I don’t know how to begin.’
‘What is it all about, sweetheart?’ he asked her with a kiss. His manner was enough to disarm any amount of fears, but it was so confident that it made Nora still more nervous.
‘I wish you wouldn’t kiss me,’ she said, almost petulantly. ‘I am going to tell you something about myself, that will make you very angry, and then you will think I accepted your kisses on false pretences.’
‘I am sorry to hear you say that Nora,’ he replied; ‘but whatever you may have done, I can assure you of my forgiveness beforehand, so you can take my kiss as an instalment in advance.’
‘Don’t you be too sure of that,’ said his wife. ‘It is something that happened before our marriage, and I wasn’t too good a girl then, I can assure you. I did all sort of awful things, and I feel sure you will wish you had never married me when you hear them.’
‘And why do you tell me of them now, my dear girl? We have been married a year, and you have never thought of doing such a thing before. Neither do I desire to hear anything about the past. Let it rest in peace. You know I was not a saint myself.’
‘But you told me all about that Ilfracombe, and I was so silly, I was too frightened to follow your example.’