" she
said, "it seems to me that they never waste much time about anything."

"We are rather in that way," he admitted. "I have been in a hurry from
the time you first met me--and you see what my brother is going to do."

"Going to do? Are you going to let him?"

"Let him?" He looked steadily at her, and she returned the gaze as
steadily. "Yes," he said, "I'm going to let him. And if I tried to stop
him I'd get my deserts. I think I know my brother Jim. And I fancy it
would take more than his brother to drag him away from your sister." He
hesitated a moment. "Is she like--like you?"

"A year younger--yes, we are alike.... And you say that you are going to
let him--marry her?"

"Yes--if you don't mind."

The challenge was in his eyes, and she accepted it.

"Is your brother Jim like you?"

"A year younger--yes.... May he marry her?"

She strove to speak easily, but to her consternation she choked, and the
bright color dyed her face from neck to hair.

This must not be: she must answer him. To flinch now would be
impossible--giving a double meaning and double understanding to a
badinage light as air. Alas! _Il ne faut pas badiner avec l'amour!_ Then
she answered, saying too much in an effort to say a little with careless
and becoming courage.

"If he is like you, he may marry her.... I am glad he is your brother."

The answering fire burned in his face; she met his eyes, and twice her
own fell before their message.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, hot face between his hands; a
careless attitude for others to observe, but a swift glance warned her
what was coming--coming in a low, casual voice, checked at intervals as
though he were swallowing.

"You are the most splendid girl I ever knew." He dropped one hand and
picked up a flower that had slipped from her finger-bowl. "You are the
only person in the world who will not think me crazy for saying this.
We're a headlong race. Will you marry me?"

She bent her head thoughtfully, pressing her mouth to her clasped
fingers. Her attitude was repose itself.

"Are you offended?" he asked, looking out of the window.

There was a slight negative motion of her head.

A party of assorted travellers rose from their table and passed them,
smiling discreetly; the old minister across the aisle mused in his
coffee-cup, caressing his shaven face with wrinkled fingers. The
dining-car grew very still.

"It's in the blood," he said, under his breath; "my grandpar