"If you'd like me to."
"Oh, I would! You—you—"
"What am I?"
"You dear!"
"'Rah! 'Rah!" cried Rokeby, "shake hands on that!" She laid in his frankly a short and capable hand. "I'm not a 'him,' am I? Oh, say I'm not."
"You're not—yet. You're a dear."
"Am now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen."
"Amen," said Julia, twinkling.
"Here are pêches melba," said Rokeby, "women always like them. I'm glad they're on our programme to-night."
"I adore them."