She pressed his arm, and stood motionless. “_Where thou goest, I will go. Thy people shall be my people._” “That’s a quotation, I suppose?” said George. “It is,” answered Katherine. “Well, you see, as I told you, I am not very well read up on the books of the day.” “I don’t know whether you would call that one of the books of the day or not,” said Katherine; “it is from the Bible.” “Oh,” answered the other. “I believe, Kate, you will spend the rest of your life laughing at me.” “Oh no,” said the young lady, “I always thought I was fitted for missionary life. Now, look what a chance I have.” “You have taken a big contract, I admit.” They had very little trouble with their luggage. It is true that the English officials looked rather searchingly in Katherine’s trunk for dynamite, but, their fears being allayed in that direction, the trunks were soon chalked and on the back of a stout porter, who transferred them to the top of a cab. “I tell you what it is,” said George, “it takes an American Custom-house official to make the average American feel ashamed of his country.” “Why, I did not think there was anything over there that could make you feel ashamed of your country. You are such a thorough-going American.” “Well, the Customs officials in New York have a knack of making a person feel that he belongs to no place on earth.” They drove to the big Liverpool hotel which is usually frequented by Americans who land in that city, and George spent the afternoon in attending to business in Liverpool, which he said he did not expect to have to look after when he left America, but which he desired very much to get some information about. Katherine innocently asked if she could be of any assistance to him, and he replied that she might later on, but not at the present state of proceedings. In the evening they went to a theatre together, and took a long route back to the hotel. “It isn’t a very pretty city,” said Miss Earle. “Oh, I think you are mistaken,” replied her lover. “To me it is the most beautiful city in the world.” “Do you really mean that?” she said, looking at him with surprise. “Yes, I do. It is the first city through which I have walked with the lady who is to be my wife.” “Oh, indeed,” remarked the lady who was to be his wife, “and have you never walked with—” “Now, see here,” said Morris, “that subject is barred out. We left all those allusions on the steamer. I say I am walking now with the lady who _is_ to be my wife. I think that statement of the case is perfectly correct, is it not?” “I believe it is rather more accurate than the average statement of the average American.” “Now, Katherine,” he said, “do you know what information I have been looking up since I have been in Liverpool?” “I haven’t the slightest idea,” she said. “Property?” “No, not property.” “Looking after your baggage, probably?”