“Indeed, but I must,” he said; “and look into your eyes to see if they are clear.”
“What nonsense!” said Lucy. “I suppose next you’ll want me to put out my tongue.”
“No,” he said laughing, “your lips will do.”
“Philip! For shame! Anyone might have seen. You shouldn’t.”
“Save that I would not have anyone witness of so holy a joy as that kiss was to me,” whispered Oldroyd, “the whole world might see my love for you, little wife to be. There’s no shame in it, Lucy. I am so happy. And you?”
“I’m very, very miserable,” she cried, looking in his face with eyes that denied the fact.
“Then you are to tell me your trouble,” he whispered, fondly, “and I am to console you.”
“But I don’t think you can, Philip.”
“Well, let us hear,” he said. “What is the trouble?”
“It is about poor Moray.”