He delayed the blow till the fortunate conjuncture was past. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. All at once her heart began to patter queerly. He tried again. Dreams of adorable infants danced through her head as she cradled blankets in her arms. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire. Well, kill me. "Thank you, Mrs. Mrs. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech.
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