"
"I do not see why," I replied, dryly, inwardly wishing myself safe in
Clare's room.
"Ah! you do not understand--men never can understand the love of women.
Wives, above all, are so very jealous. Fancy, if ever I wanted to make
your tea, or get anything ready for you, she would be angry, and I
should be wretched."
"In that case you must make tea for Clare instead of me."
"If I am anywhere near you, I must always attend to you before every one
and anything in the wide world," she said, impulsively.
"You are making very sure that my wife will not like you," I said. "What
if I have no wife?"
She shook her head gravely.
"You will marry, Sir Edgar. All the Trevelyans of Crown Anstey marry,
as becomes the head of a grand old family. You will marry, and your wife
will be the happiest woman in the world."
"I may be a modern Bluebeard, Coralie."
"No; you will not. Ah, me! To go away and leave Crown Anstey--to leave
you--I shall feel like Eve driven forth from Paradise to die."
My hand lay carelessly on the back of a chair. She bent down swiftly and
laid her burning lips upon it. I would not tell--my face flames as I
write the word--but unless you know all, reader, you will not understand
my story.
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