"Of course," murmured Carlotta. "That is quite understood. Did you think I would have bothered to drag you clear up on a mountain top to propose to me if I hadn't known you were in love with me and—I with you?" she added softly.
"Carlotta! Do you mean it?" Phil's whole heart was in his honest blue eyes.
"Of course, I mean it. Foolish! Didn't you know? Would I have tormented you so all these months if I hadn't cared?"
"But, Carlotta, sweetheart, I can't believe you are in earnest even now.
Would you marry me really?"
"Would I? Will I is the verb I brought you up here to use. Mind your grammar."
Phil clasped his hands behind him for safe keeping.
"But I can't ask you to marry me—at least not to-day."
Carlotta made a dainty little face at him.
"And why not? Have you any religious scruples about proposing on
Sunday?"
He grinned absent-mindedly and involuntarily at that. But he shook his head and his hands stayed behind his back.