“ Oh, it’s all settled,” he replied. “I’m going to this infernal cottage to write a worthless book.”
“ How I envy you,” she replied, with the utmost sincerity.
“ Well, cottages are to be had for fifteen shillings a week.”
“ Cottages are to be had—yes,” she replied. “The question is—” She checked herself. “Two rooms are all I should want,” she continued, with a curious sigh; “one for eating, one for sleeping. Oh, but I should like another, a large one at the top, and a little garden where one could grow flowers. A path—so—down to a river, or up to a wood, and the sea not very far off, so that one could hear the waves at night. Ships just vanishing on the horizon—” She broke off. “Shall you be near the sea?”
“ My notion of perfect happiness,” he began, not replying to her question,
