"W-What?"
"Would you think me insane, Jean?"
"I don't think I would."
"You wouldn't consider me utterly mad?"
"N-no."
"No--_what_?"
"No, I wouldn't consider you mad----"
"No--_what_?" he persisted.
And after a moment her pallor was tinted with a delicate rose.
"No--_what_?" he insisted again.
"No--Jim," she answered under breath.
"Then--close your ears, Jean, dear."
She closed them; his arm encircled her waist. She bore it nobly.
"You may fire when you are ready--James!" she said faintly.
A thunder-clap answered her; the Causeway seemed to spring up under
their feet; the world reeled.
Presently she heard his voice sounding calmly: "Are you all right,
Jean?"
"Yes.... I was thinking of you--as long as I could think at all. I was
ready to go--anywhere--with you."
"I have been ready for that," he said unsteadily, "from the moment I
heard your voice. But it is--is wonderful of _you_!"
She opened her blue eyes, dreamily looking up into his. Then the colour
surged into her face.
"If--if you had spoken to me across the aisle," she said, "it would have
begun even sooner, I think.... Because I can't imagine myself
not--caring for you."
He took her into his arms:
"Don't worry," he said, "I'll make a place for you in the world, even if
that Maltese cross means nothing."
She looked into his eyes fearlessly: "I know you will," she said.
Then he kissed her and she put both arms around his neck and offered her
fresh, young lips again.