-fifty thousand love-letters,--and all that kind of thing. Oh, we
chose a better way. Our wedding was among the leaves and flowers. You
remember the glow of evening sunlight between the red pine and the
silver birch? I hope that place may remain as it is all our lives; we
will go there--'

'Never! Never ask me to go there. I want to forget--I hope some day I
may forget.'

'If you hope so, then I will hope the same.'

'And you love me--with real, husband's love--love that will last?'

'Why should _I_ answer all the questions?' He took her face between his
hands. What if the wife's love should fail first?'

'You can say that lightly, because you know--'

'What do I know?'

'You know that I am _all_ love of you. As long as I am myself, I must
love you. It was because I had no will of my own left, because I lived
only in the thought of you day and night--'

Their lips met in a long silence.

'I mustn't stay past four o'clock,' were Nancy's next words. 'I don't
like to be away long from the house. Father won't ask me anything, but
he knows I'm away somewhere, and I'm afraid it makes him angry with me.'
She examined the room. 'How comfortable you are here! what a delightful
old place to live in!'

'Will you look at the other rooms?'

'Not to-day--when I come again. I must say good-bye very soon--oh, see
how the time goes! What a large library you have! You must let me look
at all the books, when I have time.'

'Let you? They are yours as much as mine.'

Her face brightened.

'I should like to live here; how I should enjoy it after that hateful
Grove Lane! Shall I live here with you some day?'

'There wouldn't be room for two. Why, your dresses would fill the whole
place.'

She went and stood before the shelves.

'But how dusty you are! Who cleans for you?'

'No one. A very rickety old woman draws a certain number of shillings
each week, on pretence of cleaning.'

'What a shame! She neglects you disgracefully. You shall go away some
afternoon, and leave me here with a great pile of dusters.'

'You can do that kind of thing? It never occurred to me to ask you: are
you a domestic person?'

She answered with something of the old confident air.

'That was an oversight, wasn't it? After all, how little you know about
me!'

'Do you know much more of me?'

Her countenance fell.

'You are going to tell me--everything. How long have you lived here?'

'Two years and a half.'

'And your friends come t