"That is, unless you are longing for a trip to England." A shadow crept into Weston's face as he remembered the six hundred shares, but he smiled a moment later.
"No," he said.

"We'll go over there together by and by--but not just now.

We'll camp beside the lake where I met you first, instead." After a while Ida lifted his right hand gently, and glanced down at the battered knuckles and broken nails.
"I'm glad it's hard and strong--strong enough to keep me safe.

And those scars will wear off, dear," she said.

"There are scars of another kind that don't--but with those you and I have nothing to do." Then she looked up at him.
"Do you know what first made me think of you ?" "I don't," replied Weston, smiling.