"I'm going to cut the force in half to-morrow, but the rest of them will stay till Moon Ying is out of the place. I'm taking no more risks."
"I suppose you are right," she said slowly. Then she looked up impulsively, and added: "How good you have been to us! I don't see how we should have got through without you. We are through, aren't we? I'm hoping you feel that you have our thanks, at least."
I stepped to her side and took her hand.
"I've asked for much more than that," I began. I intended to say a good deal more, but a diabolic click in my throat interfered with my voice, and a whirl of brain cells tangled my ideas into such inextricable confusion that I was able only to gasp out: "I want an answer to my question. I want you, and I'm going to have you."
She had risen to her feet, and I was panic-stricken with the fear that she was going to run away. Then, while I was struggling to get my ideas and my vocal organs into subordination that would make them of use in this emergency, the hereditary instinct coming from some ancestor with, more courage than I--may Heaven bless him for coming into the family!--inspired my arm, and I clasped her in close embrace. She struggled for a moment. Then she looked up at me, and, my ancestor's courage inspiring me once more, I bent down and kissed her.
"Oh, it isn't fair," she whispered in protesting accent; and I repeated the offense. "How can I answer?" she added. "You know I can't."
"There's only one answer," I whispered in return, "and you might as well give it now."
At this moment I heard a gasp, and Mercy Fillmore's voice exclaimed in consternation:
"Oh, I beg pardon--I hadn't any idea--"
At the sound, Laura whirled about and was out of my clasp, with a strength and quickness marvelous and unexpected.