"Oh, do they? You know all about it? Wise Manella!"
And he looked at her, smiling. Her passionate eyes, full of glowing ardour, met his,—a flashing fire seemed to leap from them into his own soul, and for the moment he almost lost his self-possession.
"Wise Manella!" he repeated, his voice shaking a little, while he fought with the insidious temptation which beset him,—the temptation to draw her into his arms and take his fill of the love she was so ready to give—"They always marry? No dear, they do NOT! Many of them avoid marriage—" he paused, then continued—"and do you know why?"
She shook her head.
"Because it is the end of romance! Because it rings down the curtain on a beautiful Play! The music ceases—the lights are put out—the audience goes home,—and the actors take off their fascinating costumes, wash away their paint and powder and sit down to supper—possibly fried steak and onions and a pot of beer. The fried steak and onions—also the beer—make a very good ordinary 'marriage.'"
In this flippant talk he gained the mastery over himself he had feared to lose—and laughed heartily as he saw Manella's expression of utter bewilderment.
"I do not understand!" she said, plaintively—"What is steak and onions?—how do they make a marriage? You say such strange things!"
He laughed again, thoroughly amused.
"Yes, don't I!" he rejoined—"But not half such strange things as I could say if I were so inclined! I'm a queer fellow!"
He touched her hair gently, putting back a stray curl that had fallen across her forehead.