‘It is really a dignified post,’ she said, with, however, a reserve of enthusiasm which was not altogether encouraging.
‘And of course some day I shall,’ stammered the dragoon—‘shall be in rather a better position than I am at present.’
‘I am glad to hear it, Mr. Loveday.’
‘And in short, Mistress Anne,’ continued John Loveday bravely and desperately, ‘may I pay court to you in the hope that—no, no, don’t go away!—you haven’t heard yet—that you may make me the happiest of men; not yet, but when peace is proclaimed and all is smooth and easy again? I can’t put it any better, though there’s more to be explained.’
‘This is most awkward,’ said Anne, evidently with pain. ‘I cannot possibly agree; believe me, Mr. Loveday, I cannot.’
‘But there’s more than this. You would be surprised to see what snug rooms the married trumpet- and sergeant-majors have in quarters.’
‘Barracks are not all; consider camp and war.’
‘That brings me to my strong point!’ exclaimed the soldier hopefully. ‘My father is better off than most non-commissioned officers’ fathers; and there’s always a home for you at his house in any emergency. I can tell you privately that he has enough to keep us both, and if you wouldn’t hear of barracks, well, peace once established, I’d live at home as a miller and farmer—next door to your own mother.’
‘My mother would be sure to object,’ expostulated Anne.
‘No; she leaves it all to you.’