w----"

"Yes, I know," and she leaned forward so that her head lay partly against
their clasped hands and partly upon his breast.

"And you love me, Joanne?"

"As I never dreamed that I should love a man, John Aldous," she whispered.

"And yet it has been but two days----"

"And I have lived an eternity," he heard her lips speak softly.

"You would be my wife?"

"Yes."

"To-morrow?"

"If you wanted me then, John."

"I thank God," he breathed in her hair. "And you would come to me without
reservation, Joanne, trusting me, believing in me--you would come to me
body, and heart, and soul?"

"In all those ways--yes."

"I thank God," he breathed again.

He raised her face. He looked deep into her eyes, and the glory of her love
grew in them, and her lips trembled as she lifted them ever so little for
him to kiss.

"Oh, I was happy--so happy," she whispered, putting her hands to his face.
"John, I knew that you loved me, and oh! I was fighting so hard to keep
myself from letting you know how happy it made me. And here, I was afraid
you wouldn't tell me--before it happened. And John--John----"

She leaned back from him, and her white hands moved like swift shadows in
her hair, and then, suddenly, it billowed about her--her glorious
hair--covering her from crown to hip; and with her hands she swept and
piled the lustrous masses of it over him until his face, and head, and
shoulders were buried in the flaming sheen and sweet perfume of it.

He strained her closer. Through the warm richness of her tresses his lips
pressed her lips, and they ceased to breathe. And up to their ears,
pounding through that enveloping shroud of her hair came the
_tick-tick-tick_ of the watch in his pocket.

"Joanne," he whispered.

"Yes, John."

"You are not afraid of--death?"

"No, not when you are holding me like this, John."

He still clasped her hands, and a sweet smile crept over her lips.

"Even now you are splendid," she said. "Oh, I would have you that way, my
John!"

Again they stood up in the unsteady glow of the lanterns.

"What time is it?" she asked.

He drew out his watch, and as they both looked his blood ran cold.

"Twelve minutes," she murmured, and there was not a quiver in her voice.
"Let us sit down, John--you on this box, and I on the floor, at your
feet--like this."

He seated himself on the box, and Joanne nestled herself at his knees, her
hands clasped in his.

"I think, John," she said soft