“My love, how you tremble!”

“Because I know you’re going to scold me,” exclaimed Dora, in a piteous voice.

“My sweet, I am only going to reason.”

“Oh, but reasoning is worse than scolding!” exclaimed Dora, in despair. “I didn’t marry to be reasoned with. If you meant to reason with such a poor little thing as I am, you ought to have told me so, you cruel boy!”

I tried to pacify Dora, but she turned away her face, and shook her curls from side to side, and said, “You cruel, cruel boy!” so many times, that I really did not exactly know what to do: so I took a few turns up and down the room in my uncertainty, and came back again.

“Dora, my darling!”