Having got up and kissed them again, she slipped back to her chair (after a loop on the road to squeeze her husband round the neck) and again went on.
“And now you will naturally want to know, dearest Ma and Lavvy, how we live, and what we have got to live upon. Well! And so we live on Blackheath, in the charm—ingest of dolls’ houses, de—lightfully furnished, and we have a clever little servant who is de—cidedly pretty, and we are economical and orderly, and do everything by clockwork, and we have a hundred and fifty pounds a year, and we have all we want, and more. And lastly, if you would like to know in confidence, as perhaps you may, what is my opinion of my husband, my opinion is—that I almost love him!”
“And if you would like to know in confidence, as perhaps you may,” said her husband, smiling, as he stood by her side, without her having detected his approach, “my opinion of my wife, my opinion is—.” But Bella started up, and put her hand upon his lips.
“Stop, Sir! No, John, dear! Seriously! Please not yet a while! I want to be something so much worthier than the doll in the doll’s house.”
“My darling, are you not?”
“Not half, not a quarter, so much worthier as I hope you may some day find me! Try me through some reverse, John—try me through some trial—and tell them after that , what you think of me.”
“I will, my Life,” said John. “I promise it.”
“That’s my dear John. And you won’t speak a word now; will you?”