"For instance—if you loved your husband perfectly, and he—he loved you, and there was nothing at all between—and the joy of all joys was to be with him, and you were to feel that in thought—in word—in deed—you were one, not two. There, what am I saying? The wildest nonsense. There isn't such a thing as a love of that sort. What's your news, father?"
"My dear child, how intensely you speak!"
"Never mind! Tell me what is your news, father."
Mr. Paget laughed, his laugh was not very comfortable.
"Has Gerald told you anything, Valentine?"
"Gerald? No, nothing special; he had a headache this evening."
"You know, Val—at least we often talked the matter over—that Gerald might have to go away for a time. He is my partner, and partners in such a firm as mine have often to go to the other side of the world to transact important business."
"Yes, you and Gerald have both spoken of it. He's not going soon, is he?"
"That's it, my pet. The necessity has arisen rather suddenly. Gerald has to sail for Sydney in about a month."
Valentine was sitting a little behind her father. He could not see the pallor of her face; her voice was quite clear and quiet.