tingly. "What would you want to marry a girl
like me for?" But as she spoke she no longer meant the words which had
been conceived in honesty. A storm of temptation was upon her. Married
to Gaga! Why, _nothing_ could stop her! Married to him, she would be
unassailable. It was not to be believed.

"Because I love you. Sally, do say 'yes.'" He was beseeching. His grey
face was flushed, his lips eagerly parted, his eyes radiant. Gaga seemed
transfigured. And his embrace was strengthened each instant by his
vehement desire for her.

"You love me?" Sally's voice had become thick and stupid as she
struggled to maintain her clearness of judgment in face of this
overwhelming proposal.

"Say 'yes,'" urged Gaga. "Say 'yes.' It would be so wonderful. Sally,
I've never ... never been in love before. I've ... never wanted a girl
like this. You're so...."

"What am I?" Sally's voice was tender, lingering. The tears came again
to her eyes, so touched was she by his earnestness and his gentleness,
so puzzled by the unforeseen situation.

"So lovely," Gaga breathed. His lips came nearer, and she did not
withdraw. He kissed her mouth at last, and again; and at her response
the kiss became long and possessive. "You lovely girl," he went on.
"We'll be married ... and ... and so happy."

"I don't know," cried Sally. "I don't know."

"Dear!" he begged.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps you'll be sorry to-morrow that you asked me. Will
you? Sorry? Such things _have_ been known to happen." Her voice was
quite hard, because her temptation was so great.

"I'll never change. I love you."

"I wonder." Sally shook her head. "I'll tell you to-morrow." She was
still dubious, suspicious.

"Let me get a license."

Sally's heart jumped again. He had once more surprised her, and she had
supposed herself altogether beyond surprise. A license! Her quick glance
could fathom no deceit, no inconceivable sportiveness in Gaga.

"Oh! You _are_ in a hurry!" she exclaimed, delayingly. "Frightened you
_will_ change."

"I'm frightened of losing you."

Sally laughed a little, held up her face, and kissed him. Still she was
puzzled.

"To-morrow. But you'll be sorry by then. I won't promise."

She found it not unpleasant to be loved in this fervid, nervous fashion.
It amused her. But she was curiously unmoved, and when he had put her
into her omnibus Sally breathed almost with relief. Strange to feel that
relief after parting from the man you might be goin