His meaning dawned on her at length, and he was not kept waiting long for her answer.

I have often heard him tease her about it.
She looked at him with an adorable smile, her eyes brimming over with tears, and said: 'Why, of course.

I'll marry you GRATEFULLY, and I think it is perfectly sweet of you to like me.

But what a blow for mamma!' They were married with as little delay as possible, and he took her off to Paris, Italy, and Egypt, had six months abroad, and brought her back--this! I was staying with them once, and her mother was also there.

We were sitting in the morning room,--no men, just half a dozen women,--and her mother began finding fault about something, and said: 'Has not Lord Ingleby often told you of it ?' Myra looked up in her sweet, lazy way and answered: 'Dear mamma, I know it must seem strange to you, but, do you know, my husband thinks everything I do perfect.' 'Your husband is a fool!' snapped her mother.