As for Guy, he makes up for enforced absence and lost time in a way that makes Miss Alva blush and beam, then blush again and murmur: “You—you need not prove to me so often that you live. I know your lips are not ghost lips.” Here she murmurs reproachfully: “And you let me mourn for you so long?”
“A prisoner—” begins Chester.
“A prisoner!—they take no prisoners!”
“The First of the English does! Besides my wounds,” mutters Guy, disconcerted.
“Oh, yes, your frightful wounds. I’ll—I’ll be your nurse.”
“Yes, under your hands I think I’ll recover in time,” he says, his face radiant, then goes excitedly on: “I’ll not get well before—”
“Before what?”
“Before I wed you.” [[214]]
“Wed me?” And blushes fly over Miss Brunette, even to her ivory neck, her eyes droop, though there is a joyous light in them.
“Yes, this trip I wed you!” This is a whisper, made almost ferocious by its determination.