'No, no! please!' cried Dora, with a kiss, 'don't be a naughty Blue Beard! Don't be serious!'
'my precious wife,' said I, 'we must be serious sometimes. Come! Sit down on this chair, close beside me! Give me the pencil! There! Now let us talk sensibly. You know, dear'; what a little hand it was to hold, and what a tiny wedding-ring it was to see! 'You know, my love, it is not exactly comfortable to have to go out without one's dinner. Now, is it?'
'N-n-no!' replied Dora, faintly.
'Because I KNOW you're going to scold me,' exclaimed Dora, in a piteous voice.
'My sweet, I am only going to reason.'
'Oh, but reasoning is worse than scolding!' exclaimed Dora, in despair. 'I didn't marry to be reasoned with. If you meant to reason with such a poor little thing as I am, you ought to have told me so, you cruel boy!'
I tried to pacify Dora, but she turned away her face, and shook her curls from side to side, and said, 'You cruel, cruel boy!' so many times, that I really did not exactly know what to do: so I took a few turns up and down the room in my uncertainty, and came back again.
'No, I am not your darling. Because you must be sorry that you married me, or else you wouldn't reason with me!' returned Dora.