“Some day you will be my wife, and it would not be well for either of us to remember that in these unhappy days you and I were separated. ’ Then she ran swiftly out of the library, calling out as her cavalier was almost at the front door. “She cannot be aware,” he continued, “that she is making herself conspicuous. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. ” “I understand,” he said, doggedly. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. Why don’t you wait and see if you do truly love me, then I can believe you? Then I know I am worth waiting for. . .
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