"Hymn-books--marked words in them with pencil--and passed 'em on to
me," repeated Zaidee. "Like 'love,' 'dear,' 'precious,' 'sweet,' and
'blessed,'" she added, accenting each word with a push of her parasol on
the carpet. "Sometimes a whole line outer Tate and Brady--and Solomon's
Song, you know, and sich."

"I believe," said the Colonel loftily, "that the--er--phrases of sacred
psalmody lend themselves to the language of the affections. But in
regard to the distinct promise of marriage--was there--er--no OTHER
expression?"

"Marriage Service in the prayer-book--lines and words outer that--all
marked," Zaidee replied.

The Colonel nodded naturally and approvingly. "Very good. Were others
cognizant of this? Were there any witnesses?"

"Of course not," said the girl. "Only me and him. It was generally at
church-time--or prayer-meeting. Once, in passing the plate, he slipped
one o' them peppermint lozenges with the letters stamped on it 'I love
you' for me to take."

The Colonel coughed slightly. "And you have the lozenge?"

"I ate it."

"Ah," said the Colonel. After a pause he added delicately, "But were
these attentions--er--confined to--er--sacred precincts? Did he meet you
elsewhere?"