"If it comes to that," he retorted, "you're looking rather nice yourself this morning, Nancy."
Nancy squeezed his arm gently.
"That's very pretty," she said, "but you mustn't say that sort of thing too often, George, or I shall think you've been practising. Where are we going to?"
"Why, to the church, of course," answered Leslie.
Nancy wrinkled her nose.
"But I don't want to go to the church," she protested. "It's sure to be all dusty and stuffy, and there'll be some horrid old man who'll want to crawl round with us and point out Cardinal Wolsey. Let's go and sit in the wood somewhere, and just talk."
Leslie shook his head.
"No, Nancy," he said sternly. "I can't encourage such deception. Come along to the church."
Nancy sighed.
"Oh, dear," she murmured, "that's the worst of loving a man with a chin like yours. I shouldn't be half so frightened of you if you had a beard, George. Will you grow one to please me when we're married?"