"Yes, of course. But I've a lot of secret pet names for you. Would you like to hear them? Thorold is so grave and stiff. I called you the Buffer first, because you always came between me and difficulties, and then I thought of you as 'Mr. Ready to help,' and then the 'Limpet's Rock'—I was the limpet, of course—and you were also 'the Universal Improver.'" "Oh, spare me," said Thorold with a little laugh; "I know I have been very down on you for many things, but you have taken my scoldings like an angel, and I don't feel like scolding any more." Then in a graver tone, he began to talk to her about the life they would have together, of the responsibilities that would come to them, and of the opportunities they would have of helping those around them. Gentian listened with eager delight. "I shall, of course, do all I can. I do think seriously, you know, and I'm full now of noble resolves and desires. You will have to lift me up away from earth when you are soaring heavenwards yourself. And when I drop down with a thud into the mire, you will have to pick me up again, and start me afresh." Their talk veered from grave to gay, but when they returned to the house, Mrs. Wharnecliffe asked them if they had settled the day for their marriage. "You have nothing to wait for," she said; "I am sure you know each other through and through. I mean to keep Gentian with me until her trousseau will be ready, and you will have to get your house in order, Thorold. Don't think I want to hurry you, but I'm going to take Phil to the Riviera in November, and should love to see you settled comfortably for the winter, before we go." "I have touched upon that crucial point," said Thorold. "Yes," said Gentian, a little shyly; "and I'm going to leave it to him—I want just a little time to take it all in, and to think over it, but when he wants me, I'll be ready." "Then why not fix a day towards the end of October? That will leave a good three months," suggested Mrs. Wharnecliffe. And both Thorold and Gentian signified their assent. The hours of that day passed too quickly for Gentian. She clung to Thorold when his time of departure came. "You are quite sure you haven't made a mistake?" she said, laying her head on his shoulder with a little happy sigh; "you won't let Miss Muir make you think I am too young and giddy to make you a good wife? I shall do awful things sometimes, I always do, but I shan't do them on purpose. And I have some pride, and I'll show Miss Muir that I can keep house, and dispense hospitality, and be as good a hostess as she is herself." "I am not afraid that my future wife will lack either dignity or grace," said Thorold. "My darling, I have made many mistakes in my life, but I am quite certain that I am not making one now." "And we'll write and write and write to each other, till we meet again," said Gentian; "and if you're very long away, I shall get into my car and come tearing down to see you—I can always do that."