"Child!" he said, astonished; "what are you talking and thinking of?"
"I am thinking, Cornelius, of a thing I have thought of for a year and more. I often wanted to tell you, but I never dared; I should like to tell you now, Cornelius, only I don't know how."
Cornelius looked perplexed.
"I would gladly help you," he observed, "if I only knew what it was about."
I could not help reddening.
"Suppose," he said hastily, "you write it to me when I am in Italy—eh,
Daisy?"
"I would rather say it than write it, Cornelius."
"Then say it, child."
"Well, then, Cornelius," I replied, a little desperately, "I will never be jealous of you again—there!"
"There!" he echoed, smiling, "is that the mighty secret?"