"I've heard that you're very fickle, Mr. Jeb Stuart. Isn't this all very, very sudden, to be so serious?"
She was still smiling and her eyes were twinkling, but her hand was not trembling. She was complete mistress of her emotions.
Stuart felt his heart pounding. He couldn't keep his hand from trembling, nor his voice from quivering slightly.
"I know I've been a little quick on the trigger, Miss Flora. But it came to me in a flash, the moment I saw you. I've had a good time with pretty girls—yes. But I never felt that way when I met one of the others. And now I'm stammering and trembling and I don't know how to talk to you. I can't rattle on like I've done so many times. You—you've got me, dear honey girl, for life, if you want me—please—be good to me."
She laughed a joyous, girlish peal that disconcerted him completely.
"My daddy's been warning me against you, sir!"
Stuart suddenly caught a note in her laughter that gave him courage.
She was not laughing at him but with him.
"He did not," he protested solemnly. "Colonel Cooke was just as nice to me as he could be—"
"Certainly. He's an Old Virginia gentleman. Behind your back he told me confidentially what he thought of you."
"All right. I dare you to cross your heart and tell me what he said."