she'll be dead. I don't believe she'll _ever_ be dead."

"You've let the cat out of the bag enough so I've lost my interest in
her," he professed. "I can make a guess that she's some old woman, and I
bet you I won't see anything remarkable in her. Except that wild name.
Is it Miss Touclé, or Mrs. Touclé?"

The girl burst into laughter at this, foolish, light-hearted mirth which
drenched the air all about her with the perfume of young gaiety. "Is it
Miss Druid, or Mrs. Druid?" was all she would say.

She looked up at him, her eyes shining, and cried between her gusts of
laughter, as if astonished, "Why, I do believe we are going to be happy
together. I do believe it's going to be fun to live with you."

His appalled surprise that she had again fallen into the pit of
incredulity was, this time, only half humorous. "For God's sake, what
_did_ you think!"

She answered, reasonably, "Well, nobody ever is happy together, either
in books or out of them. Of all the million, million love-affairs that
have happened, does anybody ever claim any one to have been happy?"

His breath was taken away. He asked helplessly, "Well, why _are_ you
marrying me?"

She replied very seriously, "Because I can't help myself, dear Neale.
Isn't that the only reason you're marrying me?"

He looked at her long, his nostrils quivering a little, gave a short