"So you shall, Mrs. Trapes, if you will. You are precisely the kind of housekeeper I need."
"What—me?"
"You, Mrs. Trapes. A lonely bachelor needs some one to—er take care of his servants for him, to see they don't overeat themselves too often; or—er—strain themselves spring-cleaning out of season—or—"
"But you got a wife t' do all that for you. I guess Hermy'll know how to manage."
"Hermione!" said Ravenslee, starting, "wife? Am I really—married?"
"Sure! Didn't she go an' let you wed her when we all thought you was dyin'?"
"Oh, did she?" said he very gently. "Why then, it—it wasn't all a dream?"
"Mr. Geoffrey, Hermy's been Mrs. Ravenslee, your lawful wedded wife, just exactly four weeks."
Ravenslee stared up at the ceiling, dreamy-eyed.
"Good heavens!" he murmured. "I thought I'd only dreamed it."