"Anna," he said, quickly, "if we could be together always!"
"Together—always," she repeated.
"Just think of it—you with your painting and me—who knows? I might finish my book. We might go to Mount Athos."
"On Mount Athos," said Anna, "there would be no philosophy—but a fiddle and some picturesque rags."
"I am afraid we must not drop philosophy," he said.
"In that case," said Anna, "we must drop Mount Athos and take an attic. It would have to be an attic—we should be so poor. But we would work and work and work. Between us we might accomplish something! Would the days ever be long enough? I would do the cooking. I can make an omelette and a beef-steak pie — but I have forgotten most of the pie. Do you mind?"
He laughed. "Should we be able to afford beef- steak?"
"We should be called The Dean and his minx," said Anna. "What would Eleanor say?"
"Suppose we went down and resigned the Deanery together," he suggested. "But are you—crying?"
"No, it is only the light—it is a little strong for my eyes. I—I have been using them too much lately. Ten whole days to wait—before I can see you again. It seems such a long time. So many things can happen in ten days. . . . I will work at the picture, but — sometimes I think it will never be finished. Whenever I see hope something happens. I — I heard to-day," she went on, "from my husband. He is in money difficulties again. The thirty pounds