“Yes, Shireen,” he said, “I still have you, and we shall never part, I do assure you, unless I am slain in battle, and even then you will be by my side.”
Then he started to his feet.
“Come, Shireen,” he said bravely, “the more I think about it, the worse it will be. I will go and seek my aunt now in her own room, and tell her all about it.”
I trotted along the passage with him, and soon we came to Mrs Clifford’s door.
“Come in,” she cried. “Come in, Edgar,” for she knew it was his knock.
“Sit down, my child, by my chair.”
So Edgar took a low stool by her knee just as he used to do when a boy, and the kindly white-haired lady passed her hand through his hair.
“Just like old times, isn’t it, Edgar?”
“Yes, auntie; but I have come to speak to you about Shireen.”
“About your beautiful pussy?”