Then Allen turned—he was forbidden, under pain of death, to recognize her until he heard these mystic words—knelt on the step below her and kissed her other hand, while the one upraised descended upon his head in benediction.
"The Lord be with thee, Fair Lady," he replied, following his lesson.
"And with thee—I accept thy troth. Now we can have a visit."
The Arthurian lady had vanished, and Patricia was herself again, curled up close beside him.
"Look here, Lady Pat," he said, shaking his finger at her warningly, "I think we ought to put a stop to this—you're taking it all too seriously."
"Of course," she admitted, smiling up at him. "Why don't we get married right away—then it needn't be serious any longer."
"Well"—Allen would not have wounded the devoted little heart for worlds—"one reason is that I haven't money enough."
"Did Knights have to have money?" Patricia inquired. "I never saw a suit of armor with a money-pocket in it."
"Neither did I," he admitted. "There wasn't any money then, like ours, and when they wanted anything they didn't have, they fought for it."
"Well, then, why don't you fight for it?"