"And why should I quarrel with you? Aren't you the most amiable, the most perfect little woman in the world?"
"Oh, of course; I know all that. But I have always read, and always believed, that when two persons are truly, deeply in love, they have most exciting quarrels. Is it not true that in all romances the man is eternally quarrelling with the girl and bidding her farewell forever?"
"Yes, and coming back in ten minutes to weep and grovel at her feet and beg her to forgive him. My dear little Phyllis, why should I bid you farewell forever, when I am morally certain that in half that time I should be cringing in the turf, weeping and begging you to say that all is forgiven and forgotten?"
"That would be lovely," she said pensively.
"Perhaps, but it would be very undignified and unnecessary. And I am not at all sure that you would admire me in that attitude even if I did imitate the heroes of romance. A weeping lover is much more agreeable in a novel than in actual life. However if you insist that we must quarrel, in order to demonstrate the sincerity of my affection, I shall suggest that we have our spats when we part for the night, in order that no precious waking hours may be lost."
"You are joking," she exclaimed with a little pout.
"Not at all. Still," I added reflectively, "even this plan has its disadvantages, for if we quarrel when we part at night, it will necessitate my return to your window, which would not only annoy your aunt but might scandalize the neighbors. Furthermore it might give me a shocking cold, unless you immediately repented, for the nights are very damp. No," I sighed with great feeling, "all this seems impracticable. You must give me a better reason for my coldness."
Phyllis toyed with a clover blossom, and made no answer. I went on:
"As a slight indication of my unlover-like hauteur, let me confess that I am going to bring you a marvellously glittering bauble when I come back from the city, something that will bewilder you by day and dazzle you by night."
She shrugged her shoulders. "Of course you are; you are always giving me presents."
I laughed at this. "Well, suppose I am; I have never heard that it is a sign of waning affection to bestow gifts on the loved one."