"I have dared to say so—Rose."
"But you are so young, Denzil—dare I say Denzil?"
"Only a year perhaps younger than you."
"But then you are only an Ensign—and people would so laugh!"
"Let them do so—he who laughs wins; one day I shall be something more," said he earnestly.
"Sit beside me, please, and not behind; I shall have quite a crick in my poor little neck by the way I have to turn—and I shall give you the reins too."
In a moment Denzil was seated by her side.
"And now," said she, "let us talk of something else than love; we have had quite enough of it for one day, my poor Denzil."
How his heart thrilled again, at the sound of his own name on her lips.
"Of what shall we speak—of what else can one think or speak when with you?"