able to put up with my temper--now, beautiful, I'm quite sure you
couldn't, so there's not a bit of use in arguing it. Some day you'd
end by strangling me, which would be horribly disagreeable for me, and
then they'd hang you for it, you know, and that would be equally
disagreeable for you. Fancy, though, what a good advertisement it would
be for your poems!"
[Illustration: "'My lady,' he asked, very softly, 'haven't you any
good news for me on this wonderful morning?'">[
She was not looking at him now--oh, no, Margaret was far too busily