neck.

I looked up, and saw her face full of mischief.

"What about the rose, Jack?" she asked.

I remembered. Bewildered with delight, and believing I had won her, I
said:

"Your soldier till death, signorina."

"Bother death!" said she saucily. "Nobody's going to die. We shall
win, and then--"

"And then," said I eagerly, "you'll marry me, sweet?"

She quietly stooped down and kissed my lips. Then, stroking my hair,
she said:

"You're a nice boy, but you're not a good boy, Jack."

"Christina, you won't marry him?"

"Him?"

"McGregor," said I.

"Jack," said she, whispering now, "I hate him!"

"So do I," I answered promptly. "And if it's to win you, I'll upset a