"That it will not," reply I, stoutly, recollecting how much I yawned, and how largely Mr. Musgrave figured in the first. "I have no opinion of honey-moons; no more would you if you had had one."
"Should not I?" speaking a little absently, while her eyes stray through the window to the serene coldness of the sky, and the pallid droop of the snow-drops in the garden-border.
"You are sure," say I, earnestly, taking her light hand in mine, "that you are not going because you think that you are not wanted now—that now, that I have my—my own property again" (smiling irrepressibly), "I can do very well without you."
"Quite sure, Nancy!" looking back into my eager eyes with confident affection.
"And you will come back very soon? very?"
"When you quarrel," she answers, her face dimpling into a laugh, "I will come and make it up between you."
"You must come before then," say I, with a proud smile, "or your visit is likely to be indefinitely postponed."
Roger and I quarrel! We both find the idea so amusing that we laugh in concert.