“How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily. Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them. "To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. "I should be sorry to persuade him to do anything his calmer judgment might disapprove. We mustn’t make it so. He did his best not to grin. It forbids—all sorts of things. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical.
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