"Are you going to be like this when we're married?" asked Sylvia in a disappointed voice. "Not at all!" "Oh, I'm _so_ glad! If you'll excuse my saying so, Frank darling, you seem to me to have a rather sulky disposition." He seized the papers and threw them on the floor. "Sulky? _I, sulky?_ You never made a greater mistake. You're not a good judge of character, Sylvia. Don't go in for it. Leave it alone. You'll never make anything of it, you haven't the gift. As it happens, I have a very good temper, except that now and then I'm 'rather violent when roused,' as the palmists say, but sulky--never!" Sylvia seemed to have made up her mind to be irritating. She laughed a good deal. (She looked most lovely when laughing.) "What are you laughing at?" he asked. "At you. Pretending to be violent, good-tempered. Of course you're neither. What you think is self-control is merely sulkiness." His eyes flashed. "What do you want?" he said, in an undertone. "Why, I want you to be sensible and jolly; like you were that day at Richmond." "How can I be like I was that day at Richmond? It was a lovely day; we were in the country; it was our escapade. It was an exceptional case." "Oh dear! Then will you only be _like that_ as an exceptional case?" "My dear child, you don't understand. When a man has--has work to do," he said rather hesitatingly. She laughed again. "Work! It must be frightfully important work if you throw it on the floor from temper." He bore this well, and answered, picking up the papers, "Important or not, it's what I'm here for--it's what your father pays me for. How on earth he can think I'm the slightest use to him I can't imagine." "Oh, he knows you're not, really, dear," said Sylvia soothingly. "But he's grown used to you, and to have a secretary makes him feel he's a sort of important public man. Don't you see?" "What! I'm _not_ useful to him?" Woodville asked angrily. "I should like to know----" Here he stopped. "I suppose you think he won't know what to do without you when we're married," said Sylvia. "Oh, I do wish you'd leave off saying that, Sylvia." "Saying what?" "When we're married. You have no idea how irritating you are, darling." "Irritating? Oh dear, Frank, I'm so sorry. Do forgive me. Perhaps it is rather bad taste, but I say it to cheer you up, to remind you you have something to look forward to. Do you see?" She looked at him sweetly, but he would not meet her eyes. "Perhaps you're _not_ looking forward to it?" she said in a piqued voice. "Sylvia, would you mind going away?" "Oh, all right. Very well. I won't disturb you any more. It's very sweet and conscientious of you to bother about the papers. I'll go. Shan't you want me always with you when we're married?" "Never!" he answered. "At least, not if I have any other occupation." Her eyes brightened. "Oh! then it isn't that I worry you, but I sort of distract your attention. Is that it?" He made no answer.