Without a word he turned and took her in his arms, kissing her again and
again. "'Rose of all roses! Rose of all the world!'" he said in her ear.

Whereat, she kissed him of her own accord, at the same time lightly
pressing him back.

"Have mercy--a little! If you crush roses too hard their petals drop
off!"

"Darling--I'm sorry!" The great word was out at last; and he felt
quaintly relieved.

"You needn't be! It's only--you're such a vehement lover. And vehemence
is said--not to last!"

The words startled him. "You try me."

"How? An extra long engagement?"

"N-no. I wasn't thinking of that."

"Well, we've got to think, haven't we? To talk practical politics!"

"Rather not. I bar politics--practical or Utopian."

She laughed. There was happiness in her laugh, and tenderness and an
undernote of triumph.

"You're delicious! So ardent, yet so absurdly detached from the dull
plodding things that make up common life. Come--let's stroll. The
verandah breathes heat like a benevolent dragon!"

They strolled in the cool darkness under drooping boughs, through which
a star flickered here and there. He refrained from putting an arm round
her, and was rewarded by her slipping a hand under his elbow.

"Shall it be--a Simla wedding?" she asked in her caressing voice. "About
the middle of the season? June?"

"June? Yes. When I get back from Gilgit?"

"But--my dear! You're not going to disappear for two whole months?"

"I'm afraid so. I'm awfully sorry. But I can't go back on Lance."

"Oh--Lance!"

He heard her teeth click on the word. Perhaps she had merely echoed it.

"Yes; a very old engagement. And--frankly--I'm keen."

"Oh--very well". Her hand slipped from his arm. "And when you've
fulfilled your _prior_ engagement, you can perhaps find time--to marry
me?"

"Darling--don't take it that way," he pleaded.

"Well, I _did_ suppose I was going to be a shade more important to you
than--your Lance. But we won't spoil things by squabbling."

Impulsively he drew her forward and kissed her; and this time he kept an
arm round her as they moved on. He must speak--soon. But he wanted a
natural opening, not to drag it in by the hair.

"And after the honeymoon--Home?" she asked, following up her
all-absorbing train of thought.

"Yes--I think so. It's about time."

She let out a small sigh of satisfaction. "I'm glad it's not India. And
yet--the life out here gets a hold, like dram-drinking. One feels as if
perp