"Yes, you forgot your appointment with dad and the vigilantes. You've missed some excitement and violence."
His face had grown white again—grave now and troubled. "May I speak to your father?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied.
"If I come back from the war—well—not crippled—will you promise to marry me?"
"Kurt, I promise now."
That seemed to shake him. "But, Lenore, it is not fair to you. I don't believe a soldier should bind a girl by marriage or engagement before he goes to war. She should be free.… I want you to be free."
"That's for you to say," she replied, softly. "But for my part, I don't want to be free—if you go away to war."
"If!… I'm going," he said, with a start. "You don't want to be free? Lenore, would you be engaged to me?"
"My dear boy, of course I would.… It seems I am, doesn't it?" she replied, with one of her deep, low laughs.
He gazed at her, fascinated, worked upon by overwhelming emotions. "Would you marry me—before I go?"