Would you marry me really?"

"_Would_ I? _Will_ I is the verb I brought you up here to use. Mind
your grammar."

Phil clasped his hands behind him for safe keeping.

"But I can't ask you to marry me--at least not to-day."

Carlotta made a dainty little face at him.

"And why not? Have you any religious scruples about proposing on
Sunday?"

He grinned absent-mindedly and involuntarily at that. But he shook his
head and his hands stayed behind his back.

"I can't propose to you because I haven't a red cent in the world--at
least not more than three red cents. I couldn't support an everyday wife
on 'em, not to mention a fairy princess."

"As if that mattered," dismissed Carlotta airily. "You are in love with
me, aren't you?"

"Lord help me!" groaned Phil. "You know I am."

"And I am in love with you--for the present. You had better ask me while
the asking is good. The wind may veer by next week, or even by tomorrow.
There are other young men who do not require to be commanded to propose.
They spurt, automatically and often, like Old Faithful."