"I don't believe you have ever seen it," said Francis teasingly. "You are making it all up as you go along."
"Perhaps I am," she replied. "But I am sure I know where to find it."
"Then we will go and look for this Magical Island, sweetheart. It is an island, I suppose? How do we reach it? In a fairy boat drawn by swans?"
"Not quite. But it is fairyland when we get there."
"When shall we start, my darling? Phil, how soon can we go?"
"We must wait a little while."
"But need we wait for long?" he pleaded. "How soon will you marry me?"
"There is a long journey to the Magical Island--a long journey. But in a few weeks perhaps we can begin to think about it."
He leaned towards her. "A few weeks! and I count the days until you are really mine. How soon do you think Rob will let me travel?"
"I don't know. Let us ask him."
He nodded. "I will ask him. And then--you will not keep me waiting?"
"I will not keep you waiting," she said soberly.
He kissed her fondly, and then rose to his feet and stood looking down at her as she stretched out her hand and drew a thread from the pile of silks which lay on a table beside her.
"How industrious you are. Time was when you never touched a needle, and now you are always at work."
"I am developing good habits, that is all. There is no saying what I shall take to next; you must never be surprised."
"I know the cause, and I love you for it."
"What is the cause?"
"You only do it because you are obliged to spend so much time indoors with me. You don't acknowledge it because you are so dear and sweet, but I know well enough all you have given up for me."
"Wait until we get to the Magical Island where it is always warm. We can be out there together all day long."
"Just you and I together?"
"Just you and I together," she repeated; "unless you want any one else."
"I want nothing and no one in the world but only you."
A little thrill ran through her at the thought of his utter dependence on her, for she was literally his whole world.