“COME TOO?” she repeated.
“Yes, with me.”
“But—HOW?”
Then suddenly she was weeping like a child that is teased; her troubled eyes looked out from under puckered brows. “You don't mean it,” she said. “You don't mean it.”
And then indeed he meant it.
“Marry me,” he said very quickly, glancing towards the dark group at the end of the garden. “And we will go together.”
He seized her arm and drew her to him. “I love you,” he said. “I love your spirit. You are not like any one else.”
There was a moment's hesitation.
Both he and she looked to see how far they were still alone.
Then they turned their dusky faces to each other. He drew her still closer.