"Marjory!" he cried. "Look me in the eyes."
She obeyed.
"They are sounding taps over there," he panted. "Before they are through—do you love me, Marjory?"
Never before in all his life had he asked her that directly. Always she had been able to avoid the direct answer. Now—
She tried to struggle free.
"Don't—don't ask me that!" she pleaded.
"Before they are through—do you love me?"
Piercing the still night air the final notes came to her. There was no escape. Either she must lie or tell the truth and to lie—that meant death.
"Quick!" he cried.
"I do!" she whispered.