"That all?" she said. "Oh yes; I think I can do that. I'll try, anyway.
And if you're not satisfied--well, you'll have to let me know. See?

Now let me go, there's a good man! I don't like the feel of your
hands."

He let her go in answer to the pleading of her eyes, and she slipped
from his grasp like an eel, caught up the coat at her feet, and wriggled
into it.

Then, impishly, she faced him, buttoning it with nimble fingers the
while. "This is the garment of respectability," she declared. "It isn't
much of a fit, is it? But I shall grow to it in time. Do you know, I
believe I'm going to like being your wife?"

"Why?" said Merryon.

She laughed--that laugh of irrepressible gaiety that had surprised him
before.

"Oh, just because I shall so love fighting your battles for you," she
said. "It'll be grand sport."

"Think so?" said Merryon.

"Oh, you bet!" said the Dragon-Fly, with gay confidence. "Men never know
how to fight. They're poor things--men!"

He himself laughed at that--his grim, grudging laugh. "It's a world of
fools, Puck," he said.