"So do I, dear," she answered, "but it could not last; we are too
perfectly happy."
Neither spoke for some minutes. At that time he loved her as deeply as
it was possible for him to love anyone. Again the impulse came to tell
her, beg for forgiveness and make reparation. He was holding her in
his arms, considering. A moment more, and he would have given way to
the only unselfish impulse in his life. But again the knock, followed
by the discreet cough of the proprietor. And when he entered to tell
them that the horses were ready for their drive, "Mrs. Lennox" hastened
to put on her jacket and "Mr. Lennox" thanked his stars that he had not
spoken.