"And if I don't, Miss S.? If I prefer to do as we do in euchre, 'go it alone'—what then?"
"Then!" cried Sybilla, with a blaze of her black eyes, "I'll take the game out of your hands. I'll foil you with your own weapons. I never failed yet. I'll not fail now. I'm a match for a dozen such as you!"
"I believe, in my soul, you are!" exclaimed the artist, in a burst of admiring enthusiasm. "You're the real grit, and no mistake. I do admire spunky girls—I do, by jingo! I always thought if I married and fetched a Mrs. George Washington Parmalee down to Maine, she'd have to be something more than common. And you're not common, Miss S.—not by a long chalk! I never met your match in my life."
"No?" said Sybilla, "not even 'down to Maine?'"
"No, by George! and we raise the smartest kind of girls there. Now, Miss Silver, supposing we go partners in this here concern, would you be willing to go partners with a fellow for life? I never thought to marry an English woman, but I'll marry you to-morrow, if you'll have me. What d'ye say? Is it a go?"
"You don't mean it, Mr. Parmalee?" as soon as she could speak.
"I do!" said Mr. Parmalee, with emphasis. "Laugh, if you like. It's kind of sudden, I suppose, but I've had a hankering after you this some time. You're a right smart kind of girl, and jest my style, and I like you tip-top. The way you can roll up them black eyes of yours at a fellow is a caution to rattlesnakes. Say, is it a go?"
Sybilla turned away. Her dark cheeks reddened. There was a moment's hesitation, then she turned back and extended her hand.
"You are not very romantic, Mr. Parmalee. You don't ask me for my love, or any of that sentimental nonsense," with a laugh. "And you really mean it—you really mean to make Lady Kingsland's poor companion your wife?"
"Never meant anything more in my life. It is a go, then?"