“I hope you don’t mind my telling you, Cyril, that I love you a great deal.”
“Not in the least,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t mind listenin’ while you said it all night. But——”
“There. You’re going to insist on my sleeping again!”
“Won’t you?”
“I don’t seem to feel as if I could ever sleep again. You’re so cool, so calm, Cyril. How can you be?”
“No bally use gettin’ excited. Here we are snug as two bugs in a rug. We’ll slip through them some way.”
“But where will we go?”
He smiled.
“I have a notion of goin’ to England.” His kind of quiet humor always put her on her mettle.
“To England—?” She started up.