chness play in her face.

"Do I understand that you are proposing to other men and women or to me,
sir?" she enquired, above her muff, in the prim tone of Miss Mitty.

"To neither the one nor the other," I answered stubbornly, though I
longed to kiss the mockery away from her curving lips. "When the time
comes I shall return to you."

"And you are doing this for the sake of other people, not for me," she
said. "I suppose, indeed, that it's Aunt Mitty and Aunt Matoaca you are
putting before me. They would be flattered, I am sure, if they could
only know of it--but they can't. As a matter of fact, they also put
something before me, so I don't appear to come first with anybody. Aunt
Mitty prefers her pride and Aunt Matoaca prefers her principles, and you
prefer both--"

"I am only twenty-six," I returned. "In five years--in ten at most--I
shall be far in the race--"

"And quite out of breath with the running," she observed, "by the time
you turn and come back for me."

"I don't dare ask you to wait for me."

"As a matter of fact," she responded serenely, "I don't think I shall. I
could never endure waiting."

Her calmness was like a dash of cold water into my face.

"Don't laugh at me whatever you do," I implored.

"I'm not laughing--it's far too serious," she retorted. "That scheme of
yours," she flashed out suddenly, "is worthy of the great brain of the
General."

"Now I'll stand anything but that!" I replied, and turned squarely on
her; "Sally, do you love me?"

"Love a man who puts both his pride and his principles before me?"

"If you don't love me--and, of course you can't--why do you torment me?"

"It isn't torment, it's education. When next you start to propose to the
lady of your choice, don't begin by telling her you are lovesick for the
good opinion of her maiden aunts."

"Sally, Sally!" I cried joyfully. My hand went out to hers, and then as
she turned away--my arm was about her, and the little fur hat with the
bunch of violets was on my breast.

"O, Ben Starr, were you born blind?" she said with a sob.

"Sally, am I mad or do you love me?" I asked, and the next instant,
bending over as she looked up, I kissed her parted lips.

For a minute she was silent, as if my kiss had drawn her strength
through her tremulous red mouth. Her body quivered and seemed to melt in
my arms--and then with a happy laugh, she yielded herself to my embrace.

"A little of both, Ben," she answered, "you are mad,