"Quiet and peace," he explained, "may hold such an infinitude of possibilities impossible of realisation to a husband who is bound by promises, that it is apt to be a little—trying."
Hermione didn't speak but drew his hand to be caressed by the soft oval of a cheek and touched by the velvet of shy lips.
"And yet," he went on, staring resolutely at the fire, "I wouldn't change—this, for anything else the world could offer me!"
"Bear with me—a little longer, dear!" she murmured.
"As long as you will, Hermione—providing—"
"Well, my Geoffrey, dear?"
"That it is only—a little longer."
"You don't think I'm very—silly, do you, dear?" she enquired, staring into the fire.
"No, not very!"
"Oh!" she said softly, glancing at him reproachfully. "You don't think me—cruel?"