“Well?”
“First. I want you always to keep your rooms just as they are?”
“Dear-heart, after our six weeks’ trip, we must be in Albany for three years, and when we come back to New York, we’ll have a house of course.”
“Yes. But I want you to keep the rooms just as they are, because I love them. I don’t think I shall ever feel the same for any other place. It will be very convenient to have them whenever, we want to run down from Albany. And of course you must keep up with the ward.”
“But you don’t suppose, after we are back in New-York, that I’ll stay down there, with you uptown?”
“Oh, no! Of course not. Peter! How absurd you are! But I shall go down very often. Sometimes we’ll give little dinners to real friends. And sometimes, when we want to get away from people, we’ll dine by ourselves and spend the night there. Then whenever you want to be at the saloons or primaries we’ll dine together there and I’ll wait for you. And then I think I’ll go down sometimes, when I’m shopping, and lunch with you. I’ll promise not to bother you. You shall go back to your work, and I’ll amuse myself with your flowers, and books, till you are ready to go uptown. Then we’ll ride together.”
“Lispenard frightened me the other day, but you frighten me worse.”
“How?”
“He said you would be a much lovelier woman at thirty than you are now.”
“And that frightened you?” laughed Leonore.