Oh, Clover, Clover, circumstances _do_ alter cases! Mrs.Hope's rubber of whist seemed a long one, for Phil did not get home till a quarter before eleven, by which time the two by the fire had settled the whole progress of their future lives, while the last logs of the pinon wood crackled, smouldered, and at length broke apart into flaming brands.

In imagination the little ranch house had thrown out as many wings and as easily as a newly-hatched dragon-fly, had been beautified and made convenient in all sorts of ways,--a flower-garden had sprouted round its base, plenty of room had been made for papa and the children and Katy and Ned, who were to come out continually for visits in the long lovely summers; they themselves also were to go to and fro,--to Burnet, and still farther afield, over seas to the old Devonshire grange which Geoff remembered so fondly.
"How my mother and Isabel will delight in you," he said; "and the squire! You are precisely the girl to take his fancy.

We'll go over and see them as soon as we can, won't we, Clover ?" Clover listened delightedly to all these schemes, but through them all, like that young Irish lady who went over the marriage service with her lover adding at the end of every clause, "Provided my father gives his consent," she interposed a little running thread of protest,--"If papa is willing.

You know, Geoff, I can't really promise anything till I've talked with papa." It was settled that until Dr.Carr had been consulted, the affair was not to be called an engagement, or spoken of to any one; only Clover asked Geoff to tell Clarence all about it at once.
The thought of Clarence was, in truth, the one cloud in her happiness just then.

It was impossible to calculate how he would take the news.