Oh, what nonsense people talk of heaven! sitting on clouds and singing psalms and things like that! There can’t be any heaven half so lovely as being kissed by Robert--I felt quite giddy with happiness for several exquisite seconds, then I woke up. It was all absolutely impossible, I knew, and I must keep my head. “Now you belong to me,” he said, letting his arm slip down to my waist; “so you must begin at the beginning, and tell me everything.” “No, no,” I said, struggling feebly to free myself, and feeling so glad he held me tight! “It is impossible all the same, and that only makes it harder. Christopher is coming to see me at four, and I promised Lady Ver I would not be a fool, and would marry him.” “A fig for Lady Ver,” he said, calmly, “if that is all; you leave her to me--she never argues with me!” “It is not only that--I--I promised I would never play with you----” “And you certainly never shall,” he said, and I could see a look in his eye as he purposely misconstrued my words, and then he deliberately kissed me again. Oh! I like it better than anything else in the world! How could any one keep their head with Robert quite close, making love like that? “You certainly never--never--shall,” he said again, with a kiss between each word. “I will take care of that! Your time of playing with people is over, Mademoiselle! When you are married to me, I shall fight with any one who dares to look at you!” “But I shall never be married to you, Robert,” I said, though, as I could only be happy for such a few moments, I did not think it necessary to move away out of his arms. How thankful I was to the fog! and no one passing! I shall always adore fogs. “Yes, you will,” he announced, with perfect certainty; “in about a fortnight, I should think. I can’t and won’t have you staying at Claridge’s by yourself. I shall take you back this afternoon to Aunt Sophia. Only all that we can settle presently. Now, for the moment, I want you to tell me you love me, and that you are sorry for being such a little brute all this time.” “I did not know it until just now--but I think--I probably do love you--Robert!” I said. He was holding my hand in my muff again, the other arm round my waist. Absolutely disgraceful behaviour in the Park; we might have been Susan Jane and Thomas Augustus, and yet I was perfectly happy, and felt it was the only natural way to sit. A figure appeared in the distance--we started apart. “Oh! really, really,” I gasped, “we--you--must be different.” He leant back and laughed. “You sweet darling! Well, come, we will go for a drive in a hansom--we will choose one without a light inside. Albert Gate is quite close, come!” and he rose, and taking my arm, not offering his to me, like in books, he drew me on down the path.