"Are you serious?" asked Lizzie.
"To be sure. I mean to alter my face as you do your misfitting garments,—take in on one side and let out on the other. Isn't that the process? I shall crop my head and cultivate my chin."
"You've a very nice chin, my dear, and I think it's a shame to hide it."
"Yes, I know my chin's handsome; but wait till you see my beard."
"Oh, the vanity!" cried Lizzie, "the vanity of men in their faces! Talk of women!" and the silly creature looked up at her lover with most inconsistent satisfaction.
"Oh, the pride of women in their husbands!" said Jack, who of course knew what she was about.
"You're not my husband, Sir. There's many a slip"——But the young girl stopped short.
"'Twixt the cup and the lip," said Jack. "Go on. I can match your proverb with another. 'There's many a true word,' and so forth. No, my darling: I'm not your husband. Perhaps I never shall be. But if anything happens to me, you'll take comfort, won't you?"
"Never!" said Lizzie, tremulously.
"Oh, but you must; otherwise, Lizzie, I should think our engagement inexcusable. Stuff! who am I that you should cry for me?"