"No," she said slowly, "no! this first year must be just for ourselves.--I am so thankful that Katrine is away and so happy, for our own sakes, as well as her own. I am thankful there are no other near relatives to trouble about. I don't want _Anyone_ to come between us this first year, not even--that! A year or two alone together we must have, and then,--we'll pray for twins!" Martin's sureness of hand alone saved him from the necessity of cotton-wool. He turned round, smiling, lathered, twinkling with humour. "Why be so greedy? Surely _one_--" "No, no--two would be twice as nice. You get on so slowly with one at a time." She bent her head still lower, so that her chin rested upon her knees; her golden eyes stared into space, her shoulders heaved with a regretful sigh. "No," she said at last, "no! I suppose it would not do. Triplets _are_ vulgar, but oh, Martin, think of it!--_three_ ducks, all in a row, each with its long white tail, and its little ribbons round its wrists, and its little gold sovereign hanging round its neck... The Queen's Bounty! And oh, Martin, think, think! what an advertisement for your books... It would be in all the papers. `Mrs Martin Beverley, wife of the well-known novelist, yesterday became the mother of three daughters. (They must be daughters!) Later enquiries at the house elicited the news that the mother and family were all doing well.'" "Really, Grizel! really!" cried Martin, protesting. "You make me blush." "Oh, well!" Grizel sighed, and rose to her feet in one swift, astonishingly agile movement. "Bear up. There's no use getting agitated before the time. It might be only twins!" She strolled out of the room, and seating herself on the chair before her own mirror, gave herself into the hands of the waiting maid. "Now then, Marie, make me look like a sweet young bride." Marie looked complacent. It was easy to obey that order, since her mistress was radiant with beauty and happiness, and there lay waiting on the bed a gown, which looked as if it had been blown straight out of a fairy tale for her adornment. The ordinary white satin was far too dull and substantial to have a place in its concoction. It was a mass of cobweb lace of extraordinary antiquity and frailness, mounted on a lining of silver gauze. The fine folds accentuated the reed-like slimness of Grizel's figure, the misty indefiniteness of shading suited to a marvel the small face, with its white cheeks and amber eyes, that face which was at once so colourless, and so aglow. Marie looking at the reflection in the mirror, pushed aside the cases of jewels, and lifting a piece of tulle swathed it lightly round her mistress' head, allowing one long end to flow down the back. It was unconventional, it was daring, but the effect was irresistible, and Marie stood aside heaving a sigh of triumph. "No jewels. Only the gauze. In effect--a veil!"