"No, it does NOT signify.

Were your father the king on his throne, or the beggar in the streets, it would be all the same to me; you would still be yourself--MY husband--MY John Halifax." "God bless thee--my own wife that He has given me!" John murmured, through his close embrace.
They had altogether forgotten any one's presence, dear souls! so I kept them in that happy oblivion by slipping out to Jenny in the kitchen, and planning with her how we could at least spare Jem Watkins two days a week to help in the garden, under Mr.Halifax's orders.
"Only, Jenny," smiled I, with a warning finger, "no idling and chattering.

Young folk must work hard if they want to come to the happy ending of your master and mistress." The little maid grew the colour of her swain's pet peonies, and promised obedience.

Conscientious Jem there was no fear of--all the rosy-cheeked damsels in Christendom would not have turned him aside from one iota of his duty to Mr.Halifax.

Thus there was love in the parlour and love in the kitchen.