But Captain Paget checked her enthusiasm by a gentle gesture of his attenuated hands.
"That will do, my dear," he murmured languidly; "I'm not very strong yet, and anything in the way of fuss is inexpressibly painful to me.
Ah, my poor child," he exclaimed, pityingly, "if you could have seen a dinner at the Marquis of Hertford's, you would have understood how much can be achieved without fuss.

But I am talking of things you don't understand.

You will be my wife; and a very good, kind, obedient little wife, I have no doubt.

That is all settled.

As for working for me, my love, it would be about as much as these poor little hands could do to earn me a cigar a day--and I seldom smoke less than half a dozen cigars; so, you see, that is all so much affectionate nonsense.