It is one of the terrors of my worst moments when I think that in the months or years to come I may again be tempted--no, not I, but Alfred Burton of Garden Green may be tempted--to look once more across the hedge for you." She smiled reassuringly at him.
"You do not terrify me in the least.

I shall ask you in to tea." He groaned.
"My speech will be Cockney and my manners a little forward," he said, in a tone of misery.

"If I see your piano I shall want to vamp." "I think," she murmured, "that for the sake of the Alfred Burton who is sitting by my side to-night, I shall still be kind to you.

Perhaps you will not need my sympathy, though.

Perhaps you will adapt yourself wholly to your new life when the time comes." He shook his head.
"There are cells in one's memory," he muttered.