"I'm awfully sorry, Grace; but you know how it is when a fellow's in a
close, hard game--especially with a blow-hard like Tom Ditton."

"If I forgive you again, I'm afraid you'll prove a begging husband."

"Never! Deliver me from a begging husband. I shall assert all kinds of
authority in my house, Miss Vernon, and you'll be in a constant state of
beggary yourself. You'll have to beg me to get up in the morning, beg
me to come home early every night, beg me to swear off divers things,
beg me to go to church, beg me to buy new hats for you, beg me to eat
things you cook, beg me to--"

"I suppose I shall even have to beg you to kiss me," she cried.

"Not at all. That is one thing I'll beg of you. Lean over here, do, and
kiss me, please," he said invitingly.

She placed a hand on each arm of the chair and leaned forward
obediently. Their lips met in a smile.

"You lazy thing!" she exclaimed, her face slightly flushed. Then she
seated herself on one of the big arms, resting her elbow on the back of
the chair beside his head. For a few minutes both were silent, gazing at
the bright coals before them, the smile remaining upon their lips. Hugh
had been squinting between the toes of his shoes at a lonely black chunk
in the grate for some time before he finally spoke reflectively.

"I can't afford to be lazy much longer, can I? Married men never have a
minute's rest, you know."