"But I _don't_," she said--"at any rate, not now; and I've told you so a dozen times. My dear Rupert, the man who needs a woman to save him isn't worth the saving." "What would you call a big thing?" he asked. "Must I conquer an empire for you, or start a new religion? Or shall I merely get the Victoria Cross, or become Prime Minister?" "Don't sneer," said she; "it doesn't become you at all. You've no idea how horrid you look when you're sneering. Why don't you----? Oh! but it's no good! By the way, what a charming cover Housman has designed for your _Veils and Violets_! It's a dear little book. Some of the verses are quite pretty." "Go on," said he, "rub it in. I know I haven't done much yet; but there's plenty of time. And how can one do any good work when one is for ever sticking up one's heart like a beastly cocoanut for you to shy at? If you'd only marry me, Sybil, you should see how I would work!" "May I refer you to my speech--not the last one, but the one before that." He laughed; then he sighed. "Ah, my Pretty," he said, "it was all very well, and pleasant enough to be scolded by you when I could see you every day; but now----" "How often," she asked calmly, "have I told you that you must not call me that? It was all very well when we were children; but now----" "Look here," he said, leaning towards her, "there's not a soul about; they're in the middle of the Lancers. Let me kiss you once--it can't matter to you--and it will mean so very much to me." "That's just it," she said; "if it didn't mean----" "Then it shan't mean anything but good-bye. It's only about eight years since you gave up the habit of kissing me on every occasion." She looked down, then she looked to right and left, then suddenly she looked at him. "Very well," she said suddenly. "No," he said; "I won't have it unless it _does_ mean something." There was a silence. "Our dance, I think?" said the voice of one bending before her, and she was borne away on the arm of the partner from whom she had been hiding. Rupert left early. He had not been able to secure any more dances with her. She left late. When she came to think the evening over, she sighed more than once. "I wish I loved him a little less, or a little more," she said; "and I wish--yes, I do wish he had. I don't suppose he'll care a bit for me when I come back."