"Me!"
"You, M-M-Mo-Mi-M——" He couldn't say it.
"Try," she whispered, stifling with laughter.
"Molly!" Like a cork from a popgun came the adored yet dreaded name.
Molly turned scarlet as Miss Gay and Jones looked up in pure amazement from the farther side of the camp-fire.
"Don't you know how to make love?" she whispered in a fierce little voice; "don't you? If you don't I am going off to bed."
"Molly!" That was better—in fact, it was so low that she could scarcely hear him. But she said: "Doesn't Helen Gay look charming in her tin armour? She is the dearest, sweetest girl, Mr. Ellis. She's my cousin. Do you think her pretty?"
"Do you know," whispered Ellis, "that I am in dead earnest?"
"Why, I—I hope so."
"Then tell me what chance I stand. I am in love; it came awfully quickly, as quickly as you snapped that kodak—but it has come to stay——"