“Do not let us speak of either of them. I hate her—and I must forget him,” Daisie faltered valiantly.
“Forgive me; I will not, dear,” regretting his slip of the tongue.
He stayed with her an hour; then the nurse came in to say she had talked long enough to-day; Mr. Sherwood might stay longer to-morrow.
He took the hint, and rose, though he grumbled that it was very hard to drive a man away so soon from his own sweet wife.
The nurse went to the window so as not to embarrass the parting, and then Daisie whispered, with a kindling blush:
“We had better begin all over again, Royall—like sweethearts, you know. You may come and court me every day, but we will pretend we are not married till—we go away—on our bridal tour.”
“It shall be as you wish, my angel,” he answered tenderly, in the great happiness of feeling that she would soon be all his own. Who could not be patient, having gained so sweet a promise?
So the April days came and went, till it was three weeks since the fire and his coming to Gull Beach.
Annette had written to say that Ray Dering—all knew him by his own name now, for when he believed himself dying he had confessed his sin to Royall and won his forgiveness—was convalescing fast, and would soon be well again. She was busy buying her wedding clothes in New York, and mamma had consented for her to marry Ray in June, when they would go abroad for a trip.
Royall had told Daisie of Ray’s confession, and added: