He fixed his eye on her a moment, and for a part of that moment she was afraid of it. "Will you promise not to make a scene?"
"A scene!—do I make scenes?"
"All women do!" said Morris, with the tone of large experience.
"I don't. Where are you going?"
"If I should say I was going away on business, should you think it very strange?"
She wondered a moment, gazing at him. "Yes—no. Not if you will take me with you."
"Take you with me on business?"
"What is your business? Your business is to be with me."
"I don't earn my living with you," said Morris, "Or rather," he cried with a sudden inspiration, "that's just what I do—or what the world says I do?"
This ought perhaps to have been a great stroke, but it miscarried. "Where are you going?" Catherine simply repeated.
"To New Orleans. About buying some cotton."
"I am perfectly willing to go to New Orleans," Catherine said.
"Do you suppose I would take you to a nest of
