SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 410 | Next

Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"White Lies"

She will be waiting for me. Is it not tiresome?"
"Yes, it is."
"Well, we must not mind that, dear; in three weeks' time we are to have
too much of one another, you know, instead of too little."
"Too much! I shall never have enough of you. I shall hate the night
which will rob me of the sight of you for so many hours in the
twenty-four."
"If you can't see me, perhaps you may hear me; my tongue runs by night
as well as by day."
"Well, that is a comfort," said Edouard, gravely. "Yes, little quizzer,
I would rather hear you scold than an angel sing. Judge, then, what
music it is when you say you love me!"
"I love you, Edouard."
Edouard kissed her hand warmly, and then looked irresolutely at her
face.
"No, no!" said she, laughing and blushing. "How rude you are. Next time
we meet."
"That is a bargain. But I won't go till you say you love me again.
"Edouard, don't be silly. I am ashamed of saying the same thing so
often--I won't say it any more. What is the use? You know I love you.
There, I HAVE said it: how stupid!"
"Adieu, then, my wife that is to be.


Pages:
398 399 400 401 402 403 404 405 406 407 408 409 410 411 412 413 414 415 416 417 418 419 420 421 422