"I don't dare ask you to wait for me."
"As a matter of fact," she responded serenely, "I don't think I shall. I could never endure waiting."
Her calmness was like a dash of cold water into my face.
"Don't laugh at me whatever you do," I implored.
"I'm not laughing—it's far too serious," she retorted. "That scheme of yours," she flashed out suddenly, "is worthy of the great brain of the General."
"Now I'll stand anything but that!" I replied, and turned squarely on her; "Sally, do you love me?"
"Love a man who puts both his pride and his principles before me?"
"If you don't love me—and, of course you can't—why do you torment me?"
"It isn't torment, it's education. When next you start to propose to the lady of your choice, don't begin by telling her you are lovesick for the good opinion of her maiden aunts."
"Sally, Sally!" I cried joyfully. My hand went out to hers, and then as she turned away—my arm was about her, and the little fur hat with the bunch of violets was on my breast.