“Now you have to storm the stronghold all the same, without carrying her off,” Jacquelin laughed.
“No, I’ll carry her away some day,” asseverated Steve, confidently. “It’s worth all my worthless life and a good deal more too.”
“I think if you get into that spirit you may win her; but I’m afraid they’ll hardly recognize you in the rôle of humility. I doubt if they have heard much of you in that character. How are you going about it? You have not seen her since the suit was brought, and I doubt if she will speak to you.”
“She will not? I’ll make her. Whether she speaks or not, I’ll win her.”
“There goes your robe of humility. You have to win her parents first—for you have to ask their permission.”
Steve relapsed into thought for a moment, during which Jacquelin watched him closely.
“Do you think that’s necessary?” he asked, doubtfully, as if almost to himself.
STEVE STRETCHED, AND, PICKING UP HIS BOOK, DIVED ONCE MORE INTO THE “IDYLLS OF THE KING.”