"Were you very pleased to see him?"
He answered with a smile, "It is always pleasing to meet with one's friends."
"Arthur," she said, turning to me, "it is not fair in you to call anyone 'friend' but me. 'Acquaintance' is what you should call everybody but Geraldine."
"I call you my wife, dearest; and that is a higher name than all."
"Mr. Fenton," she said, addressing him by the name I had introduced him by, "do you think Arthur has any friend who would mourn if he left him for only a day?"
"He is fortunate if he has, Mrs. Thorburn."
"I did, Mr. Fenton. And has he a friend who, if he were lying ill, would wish to be ill too? who, if he were dying would wish to be dying? who, if he were dead, would kill himself, if he could not die for grief, that he might be by his side in the grave?" Her eyes sparkled, her nostrils dilated; she added proudly: "He has only one friend who would wish all this for his dear sake, and she is his wife."
"I am sure he is very sensible of your devotion," he answered, gravely.
She again left my side. So restless was she that even when she was seated her form swayed like one who is ever about to rise. Dr. F—— and I exchanged looks. She abruptly called from the window, "Mr. Fenton, have you seen the garden?"