written, that to him only who thinketh a thing to be evil, it is evil?
Surely, I have explained all this, even unto weariness?"

"Aye, it may be so with thee; but I am no saint. I am afraid I'm doing
very wrong."

"If you thought so," replied the Assistant, gently drawing her down
upon his lap, "would you occupy this place; would a smile beautify
those intoxicating lips, and would I read paradise in thine eyes?"

Prudence threw her arm round Spikeman's neck, and sunk her face upon
his shoulder, as if to evince her tenderness and hide her blushes, but
in truth, to conceal a disposition to laugh.

"I wish," she said, presently raising her head, and looking Spikeman
bewitchingly in the face, "I knew whether you really mean what you
say?"

"Thou art unjust to me, Prudence. Have I not given every possible
proof of affection? What hast thou asked that I have withheld? Have I
not treated thee as the elect lady of my soul?"

"Nay, there be some things which you refuse to tell me. I am foolish,"
she added, forcing some moisture into her eyes; "but--but--"

"But what, O garden of delights?" asked Spikeman, kissing the
hypocritical tears away.

"When you refuse me anything, I think you do not love--love me."