"Yes, a baggage," he agreed, lifting her hand to his lips a moment.
"If you know that, I consider you fairly warned, and shall let you run on your fate as fast as you please."
"Faute de mieux," he remarked. "Here is my nook. Let me beg your ladyship to be seated!"
"Oh, call me Bab! Everyone does." She sat down, and began to strip off her gloves. "Have you still my rose?" she enquired.
He laid his hand upon his heart. "Can you ask?"
"I began to think you an accomplished flirt. I hope the thorns may not prick you."
"To be honest with you," confessed the Colonel, "the gesture was metaphorical."
She burst out laughing. "Your trick! Tell me what it is you want! To flirt with me? I am perfectly willing. To kiss me? You may if you choose."
"To marry you," he said.
"Ah, now you are talking nonsense! Has no one warned you what bad blood there is in my family?"