The man stood with hands crossed behind his broad back until she was out of sight. “Looking at her it seems as if ’twas easy to be good,” he said with a sigh.
“How kind you are to me,” Camperdown heard in his wife’s musical tones as they were about rounding a corner.
“Am I?” meekly. “What is the latest proof of my goodness?”
“Bringing me out to-night. You did it on purpose to make me more contented.”
“Is a similar excursion to take place every night?” he asked, trying to hide a yawn from her.
“No, no; you ridiculous boy,” and stopping short she put up her other hand and rested her cheek against his encircling arm. “I don’t believe that there is another man in the world who would be so indulgent to me.”
“This is joy double-distilled!” he exclaimed. “We are acting that picture.”
“What picture, dearest?”
“One that I saw somewhere,” and he favored her with a brief description of it.
“You mean ‘Married Lovers’?”