"Oh—well! The cottage I stayed at was jolly comfortable, and the landlady the tidiest old woman that ever grilled a chop. Now suppose—to-morrow, or a week, or two months hence you got a wire from Somewhere in France or Belgium saying: 'Seasheere—such-a-day-and-such-an-hour—Alan'—would you pack your kit for a week-end and hop into the train, and come?"
"Without asking—without telling—Aunt Lynette or Uncle Owen?" She asked the question breathlessly.
"We'll tell the Doctor and Mrs. Saxham directly afterwards." He leaned his cheek on the beech-leaf hair and his arm tightened about her waist possessively. "You said my heart jumped just now when you called me a soldier. How it will jump when I pick you out with the glasses, a tiny black speck on the cliffs at Seasheere, waiting with the sunset behind you, or the dawn in your eyes to welcome me back from over the sea. Oh, my girl!"—his voice wooed her irresistibly—"I've dreamed wide awake of the joy of such a greeting.... It's up to you to make my dream come true!" He kissed her hair. "And we'll watch the day die, and sup together, and you'll sleep at my nice old woman's cottage. And I'll turn in at the Air Station—and next morning we'll be married at Seasheere Catholic Church!"
"Married—that's your plan? Ah, Alan! shall we ever be married?" she sighed.
He laughed softly, pressing her against him.
"The little Catholic Church I've mentioned was built for the very purpose. Perched on the cliffs as though it might spread its rafters any minute and flap away to sea." He kissed her hair again. "Don't think I'm spinning fairy-tales. I've got a Special Licence, so there's no need to bother about time, or previous residence in the district, or anything stuffy. Nothing's wanted but Opportunity, the church, and the priest. And that the local Registrar should put in an appearance. That's necessary, as we're not of the same faith—yet!"
She freed herself from his embrace, rose to her superb height, and stood over him.
"You've arranged all this—without consulting me for a minute. You and your landlady—and your Licence and your Registrar! Boy, I am sensible of a great desire to box your ears soundly for this!"
"I'd rather take a clout from you than a kiss from any other woman."
She tapped him lightly on both ears, and said, putting a butterfly touch of lips in the middle of the broad, tanned brow: