Fort's heart gave a jump. Why did she tell him that, unless—unless she was just a little on his side?
“I expected that,” he said. “I'm a sinner, as you know.”
Noel looked up at him. “Sin!” she said, and bent again over her baby. The word, the tone in which she said it, crouching over her baby, gave him the thought: 'If it weren't for that little creature, I shouldn't have a dog's chance.' He said, “I'll go and see your father. Is he in?”
“I think so.”
“May I come to-morrow?”
“It's Sunday; and Daddy's last day.”
“Ah! Of course.” He did not dare look back, to see if her gaze was following him, but he thought: 'Chance or no chance, I'm going to fight for her tooth and nail.'
In a room darkened against the evening sun Pierson was sitting on a sofa reading. The sight of that figure in khaki disconcerted Fort, who had not realised that there would be this metamorphosis. The narrow face, clean-shaven now, with its deep-set eyes and compressed lips, looked more priestly than ever, in spite of this brown garb. He felt his hope suddenly to be very forlorn indeed. And rushing at the fence, he began abruptly:
“I've come to ask you, sir, for your permission to marry Noel, if she will have me.”
He had thought Pierson's face gentle; it was not gentle now. “Did you know I was here, then, Captain Fort?”