Anthony Hope

“ Well then, yes, I promise, Dick."
"You'll think of no one else the whole time?"
"No—of of no one else."
"Not of that fellow, Franklin F——?"
"Dick! I told you I hated him. Aren't you going to promise, too?"
The garden seemed peaceful and quiet. We sat down on the bench again for a moment—or it was meant to be a moment. But moments are endowed from Heaven with blessed elasticity. I think I promised for a full quarter of an hour.
Then, at a cry from Daisy, I looked up. A tall stout man in gold spectacles stood looking down at us, a curious, only half-unkind, smile on his face. ”

“ I felt crimson all over, and sat speechless.
"Pray, what's the meaning of this, Mr. Vansittart?" he asked, the mixed smile still on his lips.
"I looked at him in fright for an instant. Then a pride arose in me. ”

“ I spoke as though three years were a moment of time.
"I shall be twenty," mused Daisy in an awestruck tone.
"It's not a bit too old," I cried.
"N—no, I suppose not," she conceded. "But it's a terribly long time, Dick."
A pause followed. I hammered my cap against the bench.
"It's a beast of a world," I burst out. "Why the deuce can't——? There's the Dean just got married!"
"The Dean must be forty," observed Daisy.
"He says he's twenty-nine," and we both laughed. (I happen to know, now, that the Dean spoke the truth.)
"Dick," said Daisy, in a wistful tone, "I wish you were rich like Mr. ”