"But they threatened, did they not?" the baronet asked, still frowning.
"Did they? They said they would remember, and I think it is very likely they will. Poor fellows! It was natural, and I don't mind."
"And when am I to speak to your guardian now?"
"As soon as you please—after luncheon, if you like. I don't suppose he'll object."
"Certainly not," Sir Roger said, proudly; "and then, my dearest, when am I to have my lovely little wife?"
"Oh, I don't know! It isn't well to be in any hurry. Wait a year or two."
"A year or two!" cried Sir Roger, in much the same tone as if she had said a century or two. "Impossible—utterly impossible, Mollie!"
"Well, then, a month or two. I am not in any hurry to be married, and I don't see why you should be."
"My darling little Mollie, if you loved me half as much as I love you, you would understand. And you will really be mine in a month?"
"Or two. Yes, if you insist upon it. If I am to be Lady Trajenna first or last, it may as well be first, I suppose."