Nobody upstairs; nobody downstairs but the servants; even the emptiness of daddy's room, so grewsome in the old days, brought a certain feeling of delight.

"Just you and me," as they said a dozen times a day to each other.

And then the long talks on that blessed old sofa with its cushions--( what a wonderful old sofa it was, and how much it had heard); talks about when she was a girl--as if she had ever passed the age; and when he was a boy; and of what they both thought and did in that blissful state of innocence and inexperience.

Talks about the bungalow they would build some day--that bungalow which Garry had toppled over--and how it would be furnished; and whether they could not persuade the landlord to sell them the dear sofa and move it out there bodily; talks about their life during the coming winter, and whether she should visit Aunt Felicia's--and if so, whether Jack would come too; and if she didn't, wouldn't it be just as well for Jack to have some place in Morfordsburg where he could find a bed in case he got storm-bound and couldn't get back to the cabin that same night.

All kinds and conditions and sorts of talks that only two lovers enjoy, and for which only two lovers can find the material.
Sometimes she thought he might be too lonely and neglected at the log-cabin.