She thought so, oh, yes; she never could have the home-feeling at Venice that she had at Florence.
“Exactly; that's what I meant—a home-feeling; I'm glad you had it.” He let the gondola dip and slide forward almost a minute before he added, with an effect of pulling a voice up out of his throat somewhere, “How would you like to live there—with me—as my wife?”
“Why, what do you mean, Dr. Welwright?” asked Clementina, with a vague laugh.
Dr. Welwright laughed, too; but not vaguely; there was a mounting cheerfulness in his laugh. “What I say. I hope it isn't very surprising.”
“No; but I never thought of such a thing.”
“Perhaps you will think of it now.”
“But you're not in ea'nest!”
“I'm thoroughly in earnest,” said the doctor, and he seemed very much amused at her incredulity.
“Then; I'm sorry,” she answered. “I couldn't.”
“No?” he said, still with amusement, or with a courage that took that form. “Why not?”