"Then I've got a chance."
But at this she took fright anew. "You mustn't think of it! You
mustn't! I can't marry you now, Billy."
"Now? All right, some other time."
He stooped over as though to pick up something from the floor.
Apparently he overbalanced himself, for he fell forward on his hands
and knees. When he picked himself up he was within arm's length of
Hazel. He reached out two triumphant arms and swept her against him.
A bare instant she struggled desperately. Then with a sigh she relaxed
and put up her mouth to be kissed.
"There, there," he said later, his lips pressed against her hair, "I
knew it would be all right once you let yourself go."
She lifted her body slightly in his arms. "Tell me you love me,
dearest."
Then when he told her, she asked, "How much? More than anything else
in the world? Are you sure?"
What ridiculous questions. Of course he was sure.
"Then you'll do anything I ask, won't you? Promise?"
She raised her head from his shoulder. "Promise?" she repeated, her
warm lips on his.
Even as her arms tightened about his neck, he felt a tightening at his
heart. And the latter was not a pleasant tightening. What did she
mean? He loved her. God, how he loved her dark loveliness, but--what
was she driving at?
"I can't promise till you tell what you want me to do."
"No, say you promise. Say it, say it."
But he would not, and she tried a new angle. "If I tell you, will you
promise?"
"After you've told me," he persisted.
She sat up straight at this and took his face between her two arm palms.
"Billy, you know I love you, don't you?"
Looking into her eyes how could he doubt it.
She resumed. "You know I wouldn't ask you to do anything that wasn't
for your own good, yet you won't promise the first promise I ever asked
you to make."