“Why, if there were no remembrance in me of the time you speak of,” he softly asked her with his lips to hers, “could I love you quite as well as I do; could I have in the calendar of my life the brightest of its days; could I whenever I look at your dear face, or hear your dear voice, see and hear my noble champion? It can never have been that which made you serious, darling?”

“No John, it wasn’t that, and still less was it Mrs. Boffin, though I love her. Wait a moment, and I’ll go on with the lecture. Give me a moment, because I like to cry for joy. It’s so delicious, John dear, to cry for joy.”

She did so on his neck, and, still clinging there, laughed a little when she said, “I think I am ready now for Thirdly, John.”

“ I am ready for Thirdly,” said John, “whatever it is.”