away from him, a charming silhouette in her heather-blue shooting-suit.

The young man took her listless hand.

"My dear," he said, "you and I have been pals all our lives. It was
only at the front that I began to realize just how much you meant to me.
And now I know I can't do without you. I've never met any one who has
been to me just what you are. And, Mary, I must have you as my wife ..."

The girl remained motionless. She kept her face averted. The room seemed
very still.

"Oh, Robin, please ..." she murmured again.

Resolutely the young man put an arm about her and drew her to him.
Slowly, reluctantly, she let him have his way. But she would not look at
him.

"Oh, my dear," he whispered, kissing her hair, "don't you care a
little?"

She remained silent.

"Won't you look at me, Mary?"

There was a hint of huskiness in his voice. He raised her face to his.

"I saw in your eyes just now that you cared for me," he whispered; "oh,
my Mary, say that you do!"