business I've been telling you? Do you think you could marry me then?"

What was the matter? Why did she stand so still with her head bending
lower and lower, the color deepening on the bit of cheek that his
anxious eyes could see.

"Mary!"

Suddenly she was clutching his collar as if in deadly fear.

"Mary, what's the matter? I'm such a fool, but--oh, Mary, dear!"

With that Mary-dear straightened and, slipping her clutch to the lapel
of his old coat, spoke. She looked into his eyes with a smile that was
sweeter--oh, much sweeter!--for tears that dimmed it, and she choked
most awfully between words. "Jim"--and a choke. "Jim, I'm terrified to
think I nearly let you get away. You. And me not worthy to lace your
shoes--" ("Oh, gracious, Mary--don't!") "me--the idiot, backing and
filling when I had the chance of my life at--at a hero. Oh, Jim!"

"Here! Mary, don't you understand? I've been telling you I was scared
blue. I hated to tell you Mary, and it's the devil to tell you twice--"

What was this? Did Heaven then sometimes come down unawares on the head
of an every-day citizen with great lapses of character? Jim Barlow,
entranced, doubted his senses yet could not doubt the touch of soft
hands clasped in his neck. He held his head back a little to be sure
that they were real. Yes, they were there, the hands--Barlow's next
remark was long, but untranslatable. Minutes later. "Mary, tell me what
you mean. Not that I care much if--if this." Language grows elliptical