to ask you," he said, plunging in miserably.
"We have never really--formally been engaged, have we?"

"The idea! Of course we have," she said, laughing. "It's only you who
wouldn't have it announced because--because you were too proud or some
other ridiculous reason!"

"Well, now I want it announced." He met her glance and added: "And I
want you to announce at the same time the date of the wedding."

He had said it--irrevocably decided for the path of conscience and
loyalty, and it seemed to him as though a great load had shifted from
his shoulders.

"Bojo! Do you mean--now, soon!"

"Just that. Doris, when this deal is settled up--and I'll know this
week--I'm going to have close on to two hundred thousand--on my own
hook, not counting what I'll get from the pool. I've plunged. I've put
every cent I had in it or could borrow," he said hastily, avoiding an
explanation of just what he had done. "I've risked everything on the
turn--"

"But supposing something went wrong?"

"It won't! This week, we're going to hammer Pittsburgh & New Orleans
down below thirty: I know. The point is now--when that's all safe--I
want you to marry me."

"I have a quarter of a million in my own name. Father gave us each that
three years ago."

He hesitated.

"Do you need that very much? I'd rather you'd start--"

"Oh, Bojo, why? If you've got that, why shouldn't I?"

He wavered before this argument.

"I would rather, Doris, we started on less, on what I myself have got.
I've thought it over a good deal. I think it would mean a great deal to
us to start out that way--to have me feel you were by my side, helping
me. It _is_ pride, but pride means all to a man, Doris."

"If I only used it for dresses and jewels--just for myself?" she said
after a moment. "You want me to look as beautiful as the other women,
and we aren't going to drop out of society, are we?"

"No. Keep it then," he said abruptly.

"I won't take a cent from father," she said virtuously, and was furious
when he laughed.

"And you are willing to give up all the rest, now, and be just plain
Mrs. Crocker?"

She nodded, watching him askance.

"When?"

"In May at the close of the social season--butterfly."

He had begun with a hunger in his heart to reach depths in hers, and he
ended with laughter, with a feeling of being defrauded.

They stopped at Simpson's for a cool drink of cider and were on again,
passing through wintry forests, with green Christmas tr