She recognized an unusual tone in his voice and she was frightened. She felt an almost irresistible impulse to run and to hide herself in some dim room of the hotel. But she did not do it; instead, she waited and walked by his side.
"Sylvia," he said, "the perils and hardships of the trip we are just finishin' have set me to thinkin' hard."
She trembled again. She felt as if he were going to say something that she would not like to hear.
"That trip was full of dangers for you, and, as we go through all this Western country, there may be more to come. I want the right, Sylvia, to look after you, to look after you more closely than I've ever done before, and to do that, Sylvia, I've got to be your husband."
"I have promised."
"I know you have, an' I know you'll keep your promise. But I want you to keep it now. Why couldn't we get married, say next week, and make this campaign one big weddin' tour. I think it would be grand, Sylvia, an' it's right easy to arrange."
He paused, awaiting her answer, but she had suddenly lost all her color, and, despite herself, she trembled violently.
"Oh no!" she cried, "not now! It would be better to wait. Why break up this pleasant—Oh, I don't mean that! I mean, why not go on as we are through the campaign, and afterwards we could talk of—of—what you propose? Anything else now would be so unusual. I think we'd better wait!"
She spoke almost breathlessly under impulse, and then she stopped suddenly as if afraid. The color poured back into her face, and she waited timidly.
The King of the Mountains, who had never known fear, was gripped by a cold chill. He had delivered his master-stroke and it had failed.