“Still,” he said, “I think the express is the better gun.”

“Oh, is an ‘express’ a gun?” exclaimed the Picture, with sudden interest.  “Of course, I might have known.”

Stuart turned in his chair, and surveyed the Picture in some surprise.  “But, my dear girl,” he remonstrated, kindly, “why didn’t you ask, if you didn’t know what I was talking about?  What did you suppose it was?”

“I didn’t know,” said the Picture; “I thought it was something to do with his luggage.  Abyssinia sounds so far away,” she explained, smiling sweetly.  “You can’t expect one to be interested in such queer places, can you?”

“No,” Stuart answered, reluctantly, and looking steadily at the fire, “I suppose not.  But you see, my dear,” he said, “I’d have gone with him if I hadn’t married you, and so I am naturally interested in his outfit.  They wanted me to make a comparative study of the little semi-independent states down there, and of how far the Italian Government allows them to rule themselves.  That’s what I was to have done.”

But the Picture hastened to reassure him.  “Oh, you mustn’t think,” she exclaimed, quickly, “that I mean to keep you at home.  I love to travel, too.  I want you to go on exploring places just as you’ve always done, only now I will go with you.  We might do the Cathedral towns, for instance.”

“The what?” gasped Stuart, raising his head.  “Oh, yes, of course,” he added, hurriedly, sinking back into his chair with a slightly bewildered expression.  “That would be very nice.  Perhaps your mother would like to go, too; it’s not a dangerous expedition, is it?  I was thinking of taking you on a trip through the South Seas—­but I suppose the Cathedral towns are just as exciting.  Or we might even penetrate as far into the interior as the English lakes and read Wordsworth and Coleridge as we go.”

Miss Delamar’s understudy observed him closely for a moment, but he made no sign, and so she turned her eyes again to the fire with a slightly troubled look.  She had not a strong sense of humor, but she was very beautiful.

Stuart’s conscience troubled him for the next few moments, and he endeavored to make up for his impatience of the moment before by telling the Picture how particularly well she was looking.

“It seems almost selfish to keep it all to myself,” he mused.

“You don’t mean,” inquired the Picture, with tender anxiety, “that you want any one else here, do you?  I’m sure I could be content to spend every evening like this.  I’ve had enough of going out and talking to people I don’t care about.  Two seasons,” she added, with the superior air of one who has put away childish things, “was quite enough of it for me.”

“Well, I never took it as seriously as that,” said Stuart, “but, of course, I don’t want any one else here to spoil our evening.  It is perfect.”