“This may be my last five minutes on earth, Nora.”
“Oh, Monty,” she returned, “what have you done?” She looked at him in ecstatic admiration; never had he seemed so heroic and desirable. “Was it murder?”
“If I come out of it alive, will you marry me?” he asked desperately.
“Oh, Monty!” she exclaimed, and flung herself into his arms. “Why did you put it off so long?”
“I didn’t need your protection so much,” he told her; “and anyway it takes a crisis like this to make me say what I really feel.”
“I love you anyway, no matter what you’ve done,” she said contentedly.
He looked at her more brightly. “I’m the happiest man in the world,” he declared, “providing,” he added cautiously, “I don’t get shot.”
She raised her head from his shoulder and tapped the package in his pocket. “What’s that?” she asked.
“That’s my heart,” he said sentimentally.
“But why do you wear it on the right side?” she queried.