“I can be fiercely jealous,” he continued. “If I thought you gave any part of yourself to anybody or anything but me, I don’t know what I wouldn’t do. Even if you gave your love to a dead man, Nance, I should be jealous—and jealousy with me would be fierce—I am all fierce passion. The side I turn to you, my darling, is almost angel, for you make it so, but all the rest of me is demon; you must keep that little angel bit of me alive, and you will, if you love me with your whole complete entire heart.”
“I do, I do,” she replied. “You are all in all to me. Would I have disobeyed my father’s dying wish if I had not loved you best of all? I love no one else, Adrian.”
“And I love no one else,” he answered with a laugh. “Come, Nancy, we have a whole month to make merry in. We will make merry—we’ll have a royal good time. Do you hear that music in the courtyard? Does it not seem to draw you?”
“It does,” she replied, “it is wonderful.”
“We’ll go and sit there, and listen to it.”
“But there are strangers there, and I am shy.”
“You shan’t be shy long, my beauty—you shall meet fresh faces daily, and fresh lives will touch your life, and your time will be gay, very gay. We will go out shopping to-morrow and you shall buy lovely things—wonderful raiment of all sorts to make a fit setting for that grave, soft, magical loveliness of yours. I shall take delight in choosing things for you. You don’t know yourself yet, Nance; you don’t know what a great gift is yours, what a power you have in your face; but your beauty will be acknowledged by all when you wear the things which I shall buy for you. Yes, we will have a fine time to-morrow, just the time which they say a woman loves. But now, come downstairs with me and sit in the court.”
“They are all wearing wraps of some sort, and I have nothing pretty,” said Nancy. “You know that I came to you without a trousseau, Adrian.”
“What is a trousseau?” asked Rowton.