He leaned down and kissed her. Although his conscience had revealed to him, that day, that he loved another better, she should never feel the difference. Nay, the very knowledge that it was so would render him all the more careful to give her marks of love.
"I have been to my mother's, and to one or two more places. What are you so busy over, dear?"
"I am writing invitations," said Sibylla.
"Invitations! Before people have called upon you?"
"They can call all the same. I have been asking Mary Tynn how many beds she can, by dint of screwing, afford. I am going to fill them all. I shall ask them for a month. How grave you look, Lionel!"
"In this first early sojourn together in our own house, Sibylla, I think we shall be happier alone."
"Oh, no, we should not. I love visitors. We shall be together all the same, Lionel."
"My little wife," he said, "if you cared for me as I care for you, you would not feel the want of visitors just now."
And there was no sophistry in this speech. He had come to the conviction that Lucy ought to have been his wife, but he did care for Sibylla very much. The prospect of a house full of guests at the present moment, appeared most displeasing to him, if only as a matter of taste.
"Put it off for a few weeks, Sibylla."