He thought of himself in the future as the well-known and much-liked Mr.
Wentworth, of Boston, who should, in the natural course of prosperity, have married his pretty cousin, Lizzie Acton; should live in a wide-fronted house, in view of the Common; and should drive, behind a light wagon, over the damp autumn roads, a pair of beautifully matched sorrel horses.

Clifford's vision of the coming years was very simple; its most definite features were this element of familiar matrimony and the duplication of his resources for trotting.

He had not yet asked his cousin to marry him; but he meant to do so as soon as he had taken his degree.

Lizzie was serenely conscious of his intention, and she had made up her mind that he would improve.

Her brother, who was very fond of this light, quick, competent little Lizzie, saw on his side no reason to interpose.