Marjorie stared at him with awe. He was so wonderful, so heroic. "But what will the country do without you?"
"It will have to get along the best it can," he answered with finality. "Do you think I'd give you up?"
But this was too much to ask. In the presence of a ruined career and a hero-less army, Marjorie felt that her own scruples were too petty to count. She could be heroic, too.
"No!" she said, in a deep, low tone, "No, we'll get married in the smoking room. Go call your drummer!"
This opened the clouds and let in the sun again with such a radiant blaze that Mallory hesitated no longer. "Fine!" he cried, and leaped to his feet, only to be detained again by Marjorie's clutch:
"But first, what about that bracelet?"
"She's got it," Mallory groaned, slumping from the heights again.
"Do you mean to say she's still wearing it?"
"How was I to get it?"
"Couldn't you have slipped into her car last night and stolen it?"