Haven, and we all thought that at last we'd found the true type
of Southern aristocrat, but it turned out that he wasn't an
aristocrat at all--just the son of a Northern carpetbagger, who
owned about all the cotton round Mobile."

"A Southerner wouldn't talk the way you're talking now," she said
evenly.

"They haven't the energy!"

"Or the somethin' else."

"I'm sorry Sally Carrol, but I've heard you say yourself that
you'd never marry---"

"That's quite different. I told you I wouldn't want to tie my
life to any of the boys that are round Tarleton now, but I never
made any sweepin' generalities."

They walked along in silence.

"I probably spread it on a bit thick Sally Carrol. I'm sorry."

She nodded but made no answer. Five minutes later as they stood
in the hallway she suddenly threw her arms round him.

"Oh, Harry," she cried, her eyes brimming with tears; "let's get
married next week. I'm afraid of having fusses like that. I'm
afraid, Harry. It wouldn't be that way if we were married."