"From to-day," she answered, "and I will give you a note to
Captain Landry."
"Then you will be Miss Fenacre to me from now on," he said.
"You must say good-bye to Florence first," she said, smiling. "You may kiss my hand," she said, as she gave it to him. "You used to do it so gallantly in the old days—such a Spaniard that you are, Frank—and I liked it so much!"
He did so, and for the first time in his life with a kind of shame.
"I hope we are not both of us making a terrible mistake,
Florence," he said.
"Oh, I couldn't want a better chief!" she said, "and, as for you, it's the wisest thing you ever did. It's me, after all, who is making the sacrifice, for, in a month or two, all the gilt will wear off, and you will see me as I really am. You will find it very disillusioning to go to sea with your divinity," she added. "You will discover she is a very flesh-and-blood affair, after all, Frank, and not worth the tip of your little finger."
"I had a good many opportunities of judging before," he replied, "and the more I knew her the more I loved her."
"Well, I am changed now," she said. "I suppose all the bad has come to the surface since—like the slag when they melt iron and skim it off with dippers—only with me there's nobody to dip. If I am astounded at the difference, what do you suppose you'll be?"
"There never could be any difference to me," he said.
"That's the only kind of love worth talking about," she said, going to the window and looking out.