She continued silent and cold.
"If you'd only go to sleep early, and get up early, and drop all that the railway train carried us away from, you'd be as happy as the birds and the deer and the fish." "I shall not change my habits," said she tartly.

"I hope you'll drop the subject." He leaned across the table toward her, the same charm now in his face and in his voice that had drawn her when she first heard him in public speech.

"Let's suppose I'm a woodchopper, and you are my wife.

We've never been anywhere but just here.

We're going to live here all our lives--just you and I--and no one else--and we don't want any one else.
And we love each other--" It was very alluring, but there was duty frowning upon her yielding senses.