He felt his courage oozing away, and so began abruptly:
"Ellice, I have a story to tell and a confession to make to you."
She looked a little startled. "That sounds ominous, Richard—like the villain in the play, only he makes his confession after marriage."
He was very sober indeed now. "That's the reason I make mine now. I want you to know just what I am before you marry me."
She leaned her chin on her clasped hands and looked at him. "Tell me all about it."
He did. He began at the beginning, and while it would not be true to say he did not spare himself, he told the story as it actually happened. He concealed no essential.
"I rode there and back last night simply because I couldn't kiss you again until I had made myself an honest man."
She reached out and clutched the hand which lay on the table near her—a sudden convulsive embrace.
"Last night?"
"Yes, I've been to the camp since I left you last night. I couldn't stand with you—there—before all our friends, till I could say I had no other man's money in my pockets."