"Yes, yes, only go! Remember that every minute of her life of late has been a minute of anxiety. And she loves you so devotedly, Geoffrey. She has only you to love."
"I am going; but not till you have told me how soon, Suzette."
"How soon—what?"
"Our marriage."
"Geoffrey, how absurd of you to talk about that, when I hardly know that we are engaged."
"I know it. We are bound and plighted as never lovers were, to my knowledge, since Romeo and Juliet. How long did Romeo wait, Suzette? Twenty-four hours, I think. I shall have to wait longer—for a special licence."
"Geoffrey, unless you hurry away to the Manor this instant, I will never speak civilly to you again."
"Why, what a fury my love can be! What an exquisite termagant! Yes, I will wait for the licence. Come to the gate with me, Suzette."
They went through the dusky garden to the old-fashioned five-barred gate which opened on to a circular drive. The night was cool and grey, and the white bloom of a catalpa tree gleamed ghost-like among the dark masses of the shrubbery. A bat wheeled across the greyness in front of the lovers, as they kissed and parted.
"Until I can get the licence," he repeated, with his happy laugh. "We'll wait for nothing else."