“Do,” she replied. “You could not well do anything else.”
He could not feel sure that it was time even to think a wedding ring would ever be required.
CHAPTER XIII
London and December—fogs and fires—cosy rooms and misery, side by side.
Lily came to breakfast, and found her husband waiting with her letters.
“Good-morning,” she said politely.
“Bad-morning,” returned he morosely.
“Why have you come? I said neither of us was to disturb the other when either was ill.”
“I am not ill. I have arrived because you chose me for better, for worse, and now you let me have my breakfast alone. I hate breakfast, and I love you. You do not greet me with joy.”