"But I sha'n't give it up. I sha'n't be content until I know every little corner of your mind and heart."
She stirred uneasily. From, the way he was looking at her it was evidently a good thing that his near arm was in a sling.
"You need a cigar," she said soothingly. "Get one out; I'll light it for you."
He obediently produced his cigar-case, and together they selected a cigar. She made a great point of cutting off the end, and then, when he had got it into his mouth, she struck a match and, sheltering the blaze with her scarf, held it close. The sudden intimacy of that beautiful face in the little circle of light, with the darkness all around, was quite too much for Percival. He looked straight into her eyes for one resolution-breaking second, then he blew out the match and catching her to him, passionately kissed those smiling, upturned lips.
"Mr. Hascombe!" she protested, shrinking away; but Percival had made his leap and nothing could stop him.
"You are mine!" he cried rapturously, pressing her hand again and again to his lips. "It's all quite right, my darling. Don't be frightened. We shall be married any time, anywhere you say, to-morrow, if you like, in Hong-Kong."
"But, Mr. Hascombe—"
"Not Mr. Hascombe. Percival, Percy, if you will. Fancy! Love at first sight. One glance on those desolate plains, and you were mine!"
"But I'm not. That's what I'm trying to tell you."
He looked at her fatuously. "But you will be! My little lady of the manor! My beautiful little mistress of Hascombe Hall!"