They both rose and went out, and I heard them in conversation with Jones. I sat still, thinking hard. But scarcely a moment had passed, when I heard the door behind me open. It was the signorina. She came in, stood behind my chair, and, leaning over, put her arms round my neck.
I looked up, and saw her face full of mischief.
“What about the rose, Jack?” she asked.
I remembered. Bewildered with delight, and believing I had won her, I said:
“Your soldier till death, signorina.”
“Bother death!” said she saucily. “Nobody’s going to die. We shall win, and then—”
“And then,” said I eagerly, “you’ll marry me, sweet?”
She quietly stooped down and kissed my lips. Then, stroking my hair, she said:
“You’re a nice boy, but you’re not a good boy, Jack.”
“Christina, you won’t marry him?”