"Shall it be next week?"
"No, indeed!"
"Well, then, the week after?"
"No, Peregrine, not--not until I am fit to be your wife--"
"That of course is now, Diana, this very moment!"
Here, having tossed back a loosened tress of glossy hair, she shook
grave head at me.
"I must be sure I am--I must know myself a little--more fit--"
"A month, Diana!"
"Two, Peregrine!"
"We will get married in a month and camp hereabouts in these silent
places all the summer. And when winter comes, I'll buy a little
cottage somewhere, anywhere--wherever you choose--"
"Even then I--shouldn't be quite happy, Peregrine."
"Why not?"
"Well--because!"
"Because of what?"
"Just because!"
"Now you are provoking!"
"Am I, Peregrine?"
"And very stubborn."
"That's what old Azor used to say--"
"Why won't you marry me and be done with it?"
"Why should I? Aren't you happy as we are?"
"Of course, but to know you mine for always would be greater
happiness."
"Oh, be content--a little longer. There's lots o' time--and I'm
learning--I speak a--bit better, don't you think?"
"Is this your reason for delay, Diana?"
"Some of it. I want you to be--a little proud of me, if you can--if
you ever grew ashamed of me--it would kill me, I think--"
"Sweet soul!" I cried, leaping to my feet to clasp her in eager arms.
"Why are you grown so humble?"
"It's love, I think, Peregrine--oh, mind the basin!" But I was not to
be stayed and, sure enough, over went the great tin basin, scattering
wet garments and soapy water broadcast.
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