But
afterwards, once that wonderful hour was past, Eliot strode masterfully
back into his man's kingdom. He was not of the type to remain a penitent,
on his knees indefinitely. Nor would Ann have had it otherwise. She would
have hated a subservient lover.
Eliot was very far from being subservient. Almost before the
neighbourhood's congratulations had ceased to rain about them both he was
demanding that Ann should fix the date of their wedding.
"You impatient man!" she teased him. "Why, we're only just this minute
engaged! We shan't be married for ages and ages yet."
"Oh, shan't we?" he retorted. "We'll be married in May, sweetheart. That's
exactly as long as I'll consent to wait. And I'm only agreeing to that
because a woman always seems to think it's part of the ceremony to buy a
quantity of clothes when she's married--just as though she couldn't buy
them afterwards quite as well as before!"
"In May? Oh, no, Eliot." Ann shook her head with decision. "That's the
unlucky month for marriages."
"You don't mean to say you're superstitious?"
"I don't know." She spoke uncertainly. "But--we've had so much ill-luck. I
don't think I want to tempt Providence by getting married in May.
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