She went away to get the address for him.
“Wainbridge is very fond of Miss Archer,” said George, when he was alone with Herbert.
“She looked ill when I last saw her. I am going to write to her.”
“Tell her—”
“Tell her what?” asked Lily, returning as he spoke.
“That we are perfectly, indefinitely happy.”
“How unlucky of you, Jack. You never should boast about happiness. It will go. How dreadful of you. I know something will go wrong.”
“You have no nerve,” said Mr. Herbert.
“These connubial differences so early in your matrimonial career are most embarrassing,” said Mr. George. “Later you will seldom or never differ, or differ altogether. Thus do the early quarrels of husband and wife evolve themselves. I must go.”
“Shall we ever become indifferent?” she asked. “Shall we ever grow old and cold and—?”