“Frank, old chap,” cried Bob, enthusiastically, “I congratulate you on the recommencement of your honeymoon with all my heart. You and Mrs Burgoyne certainly deserve every happiness after the severe trials you have both undergone.”
Thanking him warmly, our hands gripped with the same hearty clasp as in days gone by.
While I had been speaking my wife had taken a little spray of stephanotis from her breast and with loving hands pinned it in the lapel of my coat.
As I kissed her passionately, she assured me, with a rippling laugh: “There shall be nothing wanting on my part to ensure perfect felicity, for I think, dearest, you can now place implicit trust in the woman who once was Vera Seroff, Nihilist.”
The End