ou do not believe that, I am indeed the most miserable of beggars! Most
boys going to the front leave many behind whom they love. I have no one
but you.... don't make me a coward."

"I believe you. Forgive me," she said.

"If I had asked you to marry me--_me_--why, I'd have been a selfish,
egotistical fool. You are far above me. And I want you to know I know
it.... But even if I had not--had the blood I have--even if I had been
prosperous instead of ruined, I'd never have asked you, unless I came
back whole from the war."

They had been walking out the lane during this conversation and had come
close to the wheat-field. The day was hot, but pleasant, the dry wind
being laden with harvest odors. The hum of the machines was like the
roar in a flour-mill.

"If you go to war--and come back whole--?" began Lenore, tantalizingly.
She meant to have no mercy upon him. It was incredible how blind he was.
Yet how glad that made her. He resembled his desert hills, barren of
many little things, but rich in hidden strength, heroic of mold.

"Then just to add one more to the conquests girls love I'll--I'll
propose to you," he declared, banteringly.

"Beware, boy! I might accept you," she exclaimed.

His play was short-lived. He could not be gay, even under her influence.

"Please don't jest," he said, frowning. "Can't we talk of something
besides love and war?"

"They seem to be popular just now," she replied, audaciously. "Anyway,
all's fair--you know."

"No, it is not fair," he returned, low-voiced and earnest. "So once for
all let me beg of you, don't jest. Oh, I know you're sweet. You're full
of so many wonderful, surprising words and looks. I can't understand
you.... But I beg of you, don't make me a fool!"

"Well, if you pay such compliments and if I--want them--what then? You
are very original, very gallant, Mr. Kurt Dorn, and I--I rather like
you."

"I'll get angry with you," he threatened.

"You couldn't.... I'm the only girl you're going to leave behind--and if
you got angry I'd never write to you."

It thrilled Lenore and wrung her heart to see how her talk affected him.
He was in a torment. He believed she spoke lightly, girlishly, to tease
him--that she was only a gay-hearted girl, fancy-free and just a little
proud of her conquest over even him.

"I surrender. Say what you like," he said, resignedly. "I'll stand
anything--just to get your letters."

"If you go I'll write as often as you want me to,"