"Course I will, Brother Horace. Scoot along, Fledra!"
"This way, child," whispered Horace. "I've something—oh, such a dear something!—to say to you."
They quietly passed the deputy, who only raised his eyes, smiled at Fledra, and dropped his gaze again to his paper. When Horace's door was closed, Horace took Fledra into his embrace and kissed her again and again. She loved the warmth of his arms, and the delight of his kisses caused her to rest unresisting until he chose to speak.
"Fledra, dear, will you marry me—immediately?"
His question brought her to rigidity.
"You mean—"
"I mean that all our troubles are going away."
Fledra drew slowly from him.
"How can our troubles go away?" she asked.
"By your consenting."