"Never mind," I said hastily, reddening with vexation. "It shall be as you say—three months."
I stalked from the room thoroughly annoyed. I did not dare to ask myself the cause of my ill temper. Demonstrations of affection I had frequently declared disgusted me, and I had engaged myself to a man who confessed that he thought as I did. I had no reason to complain of Arthur. His behavior toward me had not changed in the slightest since our engagement. He had not attempted to avail himself of the privileges which books on etiquette (I had glanced through them) accord to engaged couples. He had never kissed me, nor hinted at the slightest inclination to do so.
I loved Arthur Ravener, I was proud of the prospect of becoming his wife; but—lest my future history be considered inconsistent with that which I have already related—I will frankly admit, at the risk of being called a contemptible humbug, that I should not have objected in the least if Arthur had been just a trifle less glacial. I admit that now; I made no such admission at
