Britons, they were doing their duty. Files of egg-cups with
disintegrated shells bore witness to it, and they were still at work,
hardly talking from rapidity of exercise. Both were dressed for an
expedition. She had her bonnet on, and he his yachting-hat. His sleeves
were turned over at the wrists, and her gown showed its lining on her
lap. At times a chance word might spring a laugh, but eating was the
business of the hour, as I would have you to know it always will be where
Cupid is in earnest. Tribute flowed in to them from the subject land.
Neglected lies Love's penny-whistle on which they played so prettily and
charmed the spheres to hear them. What do they care for the spheres, who
have one another? Come, eggs! come, bread and butter! come, tea with
sugar in it and milk! and welcome, the jolly hours. That is a fair
interpretation of the music in them just now. Yonder instrument was good
only for the overture. After all, what finer aspiration can lovers have,
than to be free man and woman in the heart of plenty? And is it not a
glorious level to have attained? Ah, wretched Scientific Humanist! not
to be by and mark the admirable sight of these young creatures feeding.
It would have been a spell to exorcise the Manichee, methinks.

The mighty performance came to an end, and then, with a flourish of his
table-napkin, husband stood over wife, who met him on the confident
budding of her mouth. The poetry of mortals is their daily prose. Is it
not a glorious level to have attained? A short, quick-blooded kiss,
radiant, fresh, and honest as Aurora, and then Richard says without lack
of cheer, "No letter to-day, my Lucy!" whereat her sweet eyes dwell on
him a little seriously, but he cries, "Never mind! he'll be coming down
himself some morning. He has only to know her, and all's well! eh?" and
so saying he puts a hand beneath her chin, and seems to frame her fair
face in fancy, she smiling up to be looked at.