“But why? Where are you going?”
“Back to America. My boat sails from Cherbourg tomorrow.”
“Oh, my aunt!”
“I'm sorry,” said Sally, touched by his concern. She was a warm-hearted girl and liked being appreciated. “But...”
“I say...” Ginger Kemp turned bright scarlet and glared before him at the uniformed official, who was regarding their tête-à-tête with the indulgent eye of one who has been through this sort of thing himself. “I say, look here, will you marry me?”
2
Sally stared at his vermilion profile in frank amazement. Ginger, she had realized by this time, was in many ways a surprising young man, but she had not expected him to be as surprising as this.
“Marry you!”
“You know what I mean.”
“Well, yes, I suppose I do. You allude to the holy state. Yes, I know what you mean.”