"Very!" I say, taking my hand away. "Did you suspect me of an unlawful love of Skippy?"
"God forbid!" he says, laughing. "No! I did not suspect you of that misplaced tenderness! Do you know, Nell, that I think you are the coldest little thing I ever saw! I don't believe any one would ever move you."
"I am not tender," I say, making a grimace; "none of us are—we all had that nonsense knocked out of us in our youth; but I am true!"
"Are you?" he cries eagerly. "Then when these six months are up———"
"I shall keep my promise," I say, my heart sinking; "only (reviving) don't make too sure of me, for six months is a long time, and there is no knowing whom I may see in it!"
"I am not afraid," says George, smiling. How happy he looks! "No one ever comes to Silverbridge, and you never go away, so how can any one see you."
"Don't forget," I say, by way of damping his exhilaration, "that papa will have to be asked."
And for the first time in my life, my parent's little prejudices on the subject of marriage commend themselves favourably to my eyes.
"That doesn't matter," says George. "Mrs. Lovelace ran away!"
"But there were exceptional circumstances in that case," I say with dignity. Besides, it would never do for that sort of thing to become a habit in the family. They were properly engaged for a long while!"
"And why may not you and I be?"
"Because he would never hear of it!" I say, looking forward with dismay to that dreadful engaged period of "pecking" that I have until now successfully evaded.
