"I could only take you as my wife," he said, still in that
half-bantering, half-embarrassed fashion of his. "Will you come?"

She threw back her head and stared at him. "Marry you! What, really?
Really?" she questioned, breathlessly.

"Merely for appearances' sake," said Merryon, with grim irony. "The
regimental morals are somewhat easily offended, and an outsider like
myself can't be too careful."

The girl was still staring at him, as though at some novel specimen of
humanity that had never before crossed her path. Suddenly she leaned
towards him, looking him full and straight in the eyes.

"What would you do if I said 'Yes'?" she questioned, in a small, tense
whisper.

He looked back at her, half-interested, half amused. "Do, urchin? Why,
marry you!" he said.

"Really marry me?" she urged. "Not make-believe?"

He stiffened at that. "Do you know what you're saying?" he demanded,
sternly.

She sprang to her feet with a wild, startled movement; then, as he
remained seated, paused, looking down at him sideways, half-doubtful,
half-confiding. "But you can't be in earnest!" she said.

"I am in earnest." He raised his face to her with a certain doggedness,