“You are near enough,” she said, laughing.
“I can't talk of anybody but you. What is the use of putting me in this chair like a bad child that must be punished by being roasted alive!”
“Are you too near the fire?”
“And too far from you,” said he, rising, and going to sit on a sofa, at the other end of the room. She kept her seat by the fire-place. “Please come here. I have so much to say to you. It will give me a headache to sit so near the fire.”
She arose, walked over to where he was, and sat on another arm-chair nearest to the sofa.
“Let us freeze at this end of the room,” she said.
“Are you cold? If you are, let us go back to the fire.”
She did look a little cold, with her pretty little hands calmly folded on her lap, but she smiled.
He drew a low seat close to hers, and took the soft hands into his, saying in beseeching accents:
“Let me sit by you, please. After so many weary months of absence grant me this happiness. You told me not to send but bring our engagement ring. Here it is. Let me put it on the dear little finger myself.”