“Say, ‘Gabriel, you shall be my husband. I will marry you the very first day I am free!’” Her brows knitted, she took her hand away a little pettishly.
“I am free. Why do you remind me?”
“Say, ‘I will marry you on the last day in May, in six weeks from today.’”
“May marriages are unlucky.”
“Ours could not be.”
“Oh, yes! it could. I am a woman of moods.”
“Every one more lovely than the last.”
“Impatient and irritable.”
“You shall have no time to be impatient. Anything you want I will rush to obtain for you. If you are irritable I will soothe you.”
“And then I want hours to myself.”