"I'd look nice, letting your name get mixed up with mine! Sweetheart, have some sense!" Jack may not have known what name he had twice called her, but Marion's eyes lighted with blue flames.
"Some things are better than sense—sweetheart," she said, with a shy boldness that startled her. The last word was spoken into the snow-matted fur of her muff, but Jack heard it.
"You—oh, God! Marion, do you—care?" He reached out and caught her by the shoulders. "You mustn't. I'm not fit for a girl like you. Maybe some day—"
"Some day doesn't mean anything at all. This part of today is what counts. I'm going with you. I—I feel as if I'd die if I didn't. If they send you to jail, I'll make them send me too—if I have to rob a Chinaman!" She laughed confusedly, hiding her face. "It's awful, but I simply couldn't live without—without—"
"Me? Say, that's the way I've been feeling about you, ever since Lord knows how long. But I didn't suppose you'd ever—"
"Say, my feet are simply freezing!" Marion interrupted him. "We'll have to start on. It would be terrible if we missed the train, Jack."
"You oughtn't to go. Honestly, I mean it. Unless we get married, it would—"
"Why, of course we'll get married! Have I got to simply propose to you? We'll have to change at Sacramento anyway—or we can change there just as well as not—and we'll get married while we're waiting for the train south. I hope you didn't think for a minute that I'd—"
"It isn't fair to you." Jack moved out from under the sheltering cedar and led the way up the gully's rim, looking mechanically for an easy crossing. "I'm a selfish enough brute without letting you—"
Marion plucked at his sleeve and stopped him.