And we ought to have time to know each other very well, Gilbert, to be quite sure we are suited to one another." This seemed an echo of his sister's reasoning, and vexed him a little.
"Have _you_ any fear that we shall not suit each other, Marian ?" he asked anxiously.
"I know that you are only too good for me," she answered.

Upon which Gilbert hindered the hemming of the Captain's handkerchiefs by stooping down to kiss the little hands at work upon them.

And then the talk drifted back to easier subjects, and he did not again press that question as to the date of the marriage.
At last the time came for going to the station.

He had arranged for Mr.
Lister's gig to call for him at the cottage, so that he might spend every possible moment with Marian.

And at three o'clock the gig appeared, driven by Martin Lister himself, and Gilbert was fain to say good-bye.
His last lingering backward glance showed him the white figure under the walnut-trees, and a little hand waving farewell.
How empty and dreary his comfortable bachelor lodgings seemed to him that night when he had dined, and sat by the open window smoking his solitary cigar, listening to the dismal street-noises, and the monotonous roll of ceaseless wheels yonder in Oxford-street; not caring to go out to his club, caring still less for opera or theatre, or any of the old ways whereby he had been wont to dispose of his evenings! His mind was full of Marian Nowell.