"Nay sweet," he broke in, "here was a selfish thought! You are so young——
"A ripe woman of twenty-two, sir!"
"But youth loveth freedom, my Betty, so shall you enjoy it while you will and come to me—when you will!"
"Nay, dear, foolish John, you do speak as you were a prison! What is maiden freedom compared to—wifehood?" she breathed.
"Wife!" he repeated reverently, "'tis a sweet word, Betty!"
"So is—husband, John."
"My Betty—dear—when?"
"Is three months hence too long?"
"Aye, 'tis very long—but——"
"Six weeks, Jack?"