And after we sat he threw his hat on the ground, then leaned over and
took my hands in his.

"Mary Cary," he began. And though his eyes were smiling, his voice was
real quivering. I was noticing, and it was. "Mary Cary, Katherine and I
have brought you with us to-night to ask if you have any objection to
our being married. We would like to do so as soon as possible--if you do
not object."

He turned my face to his, and the look in his eyes was grand. It meant
no matter who objected, marry her he would; but it was a way to tell
me--the way he was asking, and I understood.

"It depends," I said, and, as I am always playing parts to myself, right
on the spot I was a chaperon lady. "It depends on whether you love
enough. Do you?"

"I do. For myself I am entirely sure. As to Katherine--Suppose she tells
you what she thinks."

I turned toward her. "Do you, Miss Katherine? It takes--I guess it takes
a lot of love to stand marriage. Do you think you have enough?"

In the moonlight her face changed like her opal ring when the cream
becomes pink and the pink red.

"I think there is," she said. Then: "Oh, Mary Cary, why are you such a
strange, strange child?" And she threw her arms around me and kissed me
twenty times.