“But I don't want you dead. I want the feel of you. I want your hands, your face. I want _you_.” “Betty, Betty,” he said softly. “Listen, for there is no word in the world that means so much as just your name.” “Except yours.” “No interruptions, this is martial law. Dear, dearest, darling, are all empty sounds; but when I say 'Betty,' it is full of life.” “Say it again, then.” “Betty, do you love me?” “Ask: 'Betty, is the sun shining?'” “It always shines about you.” “Because my hair is red?” “Red? It is pure gold. Do you remember when I found that out on the hearth in free Levi's cabin? The colour went to my head, but when I put out my hand to touch a curl, you drew away and fastened them up again. Now I have pulled them all down and you dare not move.” “Shall I tell you why I drew away?” The tears were still on her lashes, but in the exaltation of a great passion, life, death, the grave, and things beyond had dwindled like stars before the rising sun. “You told me then--because I was 'a pampered poodle dog.' Well, I've outgrown that objection certainly. Let us hope you have a fancy for lean hounds.” She put up her hands in protest. “I drew away partly because I knew you did not love me,” she said, meeting his eyes with her clear and ardent gaze, “but more because--I knew that I loved you.” “You loved me then? Oh, Betty, if I had only known!” “If you had known!” She covered her face. “Oh, it was terrible enough as it was. I wanted to beat myself for shame.” “Shame? In loving me, my darling?” “In loving you like that.” “Nonsense. If you had only said to me: 'My good sir, I love you a little bit,' I should have come to my senses on the spot. Even pampered poodle dogs are not all fat, Betty, and, as it was, I did come to the years of discretion that very night. I didn't sleep a wink.” “Nor I.” “I walked the floor till daybreak.” “And I sat by the window.” “I hurled every hard name at myself that I could think of. 'Dolt and idiot' seemed to stick. By George, I can't get over it. To think that I might have galloped down that turnpike and swept you off your feet. You wouldn't have withstood me, Betty, you couldn't.” “Yet I did,” she said, smiling sadly. “Oh, I didn't have a fair chance, you see.” “Perhaps not,” she answered, “though sometimes I was afraid you would hear my heart beating and know it all. Do you remember that morning in the garden with the roses?--I wouldn't kiss you good-by, but if you had done it against my will I'd have broken down. After you had gone I kissed the grass where you had stood.” “My God! I can't leave you, Betty.” She met his passionate gaze with steady eyes. “If you were not to go I should never have told you,” she answered; “but if you die in battle you must remember it at the last.” “It seems an awful waste of opportunities,” he said, “but I'll make it up on the day that I come back a Major-general. Then I shall say 'forward, madam,' and you'll marry me on the spot.”