"Probably," said Norman. "Why do you sit on the other side of the room?"

"Oh, I don't know," laughed Josephine. "I feel queer to-night. And it
seems to me you're queer, too."

"I? Perhaps rather tired, dear--that's all."

"Did you and Miss Hallowell work hard to-day?"

"Oh, bother Miss Hallowell. Let's talk about ourselves." And he drew her
to the sofa at one end of the big fireplace. "I wish we hadn't set the
wedding so far off." And suddenly he found himself wondering whether
that remark had been prompted by eagerness--a lover's eagerness--or by
impatience to have the business over and settled.

"You don't act a bit natural to-night, Fred. You touch me as if I were a
stranger."

"I like that!" mocked he. "A stranger hold your hand like
this?--and--kiss you--like this?"

She drew away, suddenly laid her hands on his shoulders, kissed him upon
the lips passionately, then looked into his eyes. "_Do_ you love me,
Fred?--_really_?"

"Why so earnest?"

"You've had a great deal of experience?"

"More or less."