“Because—because,” she stammered, “you know you were once one—one of us, but you are so no longer.”
“One of us!” and he emphasised the last word.
“Oh, I mean,” she replied with a slight toss of her head, rather suggestive of disdain, “you were once a soldier of liberty—but you are so no longer.”
For a second he was puzzled, then his heart caught her meaning.
“You said you would marry only a soldier of liberty.”
“It is true,” she replied.
“And if I were one?”
“But you are not! Look, the sun is sinking behind the hills already—the shadows are in the valley. I must return.”
“But if I were a soldier of liberty once more. If I take the oath of the United Men?”
“You took it, Robert Grierson.”