"If you choose," he said, almost sullenly.
"Don't you care to hear about my dream? As I made a pillow of you during the process, I really think you are entitled to hear about it—" She broke off with a quick, involuntary laugh: "Why do you look hurt, Kervyn?"
At that he became serious to the verge of gloom.
"Come," she said sweetly, slipping her hand through his arm, "I want to tell you how I crossed that wonderful frontier——"
"I told you," he said gravely, "that I love you. Am I not entitled to an answer?"
"Entitled, Kervyn? I don't know to how many things you are en-titled. All I know is that you are titled—several times—aren't you?"
He reddened and bit his lip.
"Because," she went on gaily, "you served your time in the Guides. That is a very natural deduction, isn't it?"
He said nothing; he was very seriously upset. His stern mouth and darkened face betrayed it. And deep in Karen's heart the little imps of laughter danced to its mischievous beating.
After they had walked through the forest for a while in silence, she halted and withdrew her arm.