"Ah, well, I'm not a child now, I'm a woman."
She kept back the sigh which rose to her lips.
"I think I like being a child best, only one never can have the old childish time back again."
"Who knows, Val? Perhaps we may. If you have spoiled your teeth enough over those filberts, shall we go into the library? I have something to tell you—a little bit of news."
"All right, you shall tell it sitting in your old armchair."
She flitted on in front, looking quite like the child she more or less still was.
"Now isn't this perfect?" she said, when the door was shut, Mr. Paget established in his armchair, and the two pairs of eyes fixed upon the glowing fire. "Isn't this perfect?"
"Yes, my darling—perfect. Valentine, there is no love in all the world like a father's for his child."
"No greater love has come to me," replied Valentine slowly; and now some of the pain at her heart, notwithstanding all her brave endeavors, did come into her face. "No greater love has come to me, but I can imagine, yes. I can imagine a mightier."
"What do you mean, child?"