"I hope not."
"Of course not. I'll meet them on the border with one musket anyhow—"
The girl was looking out the window at the slowly drizzling rain and made no answer. He flushed at her apparent indifference to his heroic stand.
"Don't you believe I would?"
"Would what, Dick?" she smiled, recovering herself from her reverie.
It was no use beating about the bush, trying to talk politics. He had to make the plunge.
He suddenly took her hand in his.
She threw him a startled look, sat bolt upright, made the faintest effort to draw her hand away, and blushed furiously.
He was in for it now. There was no retreat. He gripped with desperate earnestness, tried to speak, and choked.
He drew a deep breath, tried again and only squeezed her hand harder.