"Think of the wasted months! No one has kissed me, Nigel, since we said good-bye." "Have you made up your mind to marry me yet ?" he asked.
"My dear," she answered, patting his hand, "do restrain your ardour.

Do you really want to marry me ?" "Of course I do!" "You don't love me." "I am awfully fond of you," he assured her, "and I don't love any one else." She shook her head.
"It isn't enough, Nigel," she declared, "and, strange to say, it's exactly how I feel about you." "I don't see why it shouldn't be enough," he argued.

"Perhaps we have too much common sense for these violent feelings." "It may be that," she admitted doubtfully.

"On the other hand, don't let's run any risk.

I should hate to find an affinity, and all that sort of thing, after marriage--divorce in these days is such shocking bad form.