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“You mean that you have a secret?” said Nancy.

“I have.”

“A real grave secret?”

“Yes, the gravity of the thing cannot be exaggerated.”

“And you won’t tell me?”

“No, never. Are you curious? Curiosity, thy name is woman.”

“I will crush my curiosity, Adrian, if you think I had better not know.”

“Dear little Nance, you must never know. You shall be my wife, but you must respect my secret, and if you see things which you do not understand, you must be a good child and ask no questions; and I on my part, will promise to respect your secret and not to worry you with questions, even when your conduct surprises me—even when the desire to know bubbles to the tip of my tongue. Why, Nancy, the fact of our both having a secret makes the whole arrangement fair and above board.”

“It seems so,” said Nancy; “in one sense it seems fair, and yet in another, dreadful. This is not my idea of a happy married life.”

“Never mind what your idea is; a happier husband and wife than you and I will never be found. Well, that is settled; we will be married by special licence next week.”