“I shall be all the better for a long night’s sleep,” said Peter, calmly.
This was bad enough, but the next morning, as she was arranging the flowers, she remarked to some one who stood and watched her, “Miss Winthrop is engaged. How foolish of a girl in her first season! Before she’s had any fun, to settle down to dull married life.”
She had a rose in her hand, prepared to revive Peter with it, in case her speech was too much for one dose, but when she glanced at him, he was smiling happily.
“What is it?” asked Leonore, disapprovingly.
“I beg your pardon,” said Peter. “I wasn’t listening. Did you say Miss Winthrop was married?”
“What were you smiling over?” said Leonore, in the same voice.
“I was thinking of—of—.” Then Peter hesitated and laughed.
“Of what?” asked Leonore.
“You really mustn’t ask me,” laughed Peter.
“Of what were you thinking?”