e intent.

'As a matter of fact ... Oh, the worst of it is ... I can't honestly
say that I've never ... But then, what do you want to rake up such
matters for? It's not my fault if I've accepted the traditions of my
century. Well, anyhow, you see I can't lie to you.'

'You appear to find it difficult,' she assented, rising.

'Well, what do you infer from that?'

She blew her whistle. 'That--that you're out of training,' she said
lightly, as she mounted her horse.

'Oh,' he groaned, 'you're--'

'What?'

'You beggar language.'

She laughed and rode away.

'There, I've spoiled everything,' Paul said, and went home, and passed
a sleepless night.

XI.

'I'll bet you sixpence she won't turn up to-day,' he said to his
friend in the glass, next morning; nevertheless he went into the
forest, and there she was. But she did not offer to dismount.

'Isn't there another inference to be drawn from my inability to lie to
you?' he asked.

She smiled on him from her saddle. 'Oh, perhaps there are a hundred.'

'Don't you think a reasonable inference is that--I love you?'

She laughed.

'You know I love you,' he persisted.

'Oh, the conventions of the game! the necesary formula, like "Dear" at
the beginning of a letter!' she cried.

'You don't believe me?'

'_Qui m'aime me suive_,' she said, spurring Bezigue into a rapid trot.

XII.

But the next day he found her already installed in their nook among
the trees.

'I hate people who doubt my word,' he said.

'Oh, now you hate me?'

'I love you. I love you.'

She drew away a little.

'Oh, you needn't be afraid. I shan't touch you. Why won't you believe
me?'

'Do men always glare savagely like that at women they love?'

'Why won't you believe me?'

'How long have you known me?'

'All my life. A fortnight--three weeks. But that's a lifetime.'

'And what do you know about me?'

'Everything. I know that you're adorable. And I adore you.'

'Adorable--at moments. Do you know whether I am--married, for
example?'

'I know that if you are, I should like to kill your husband. Are you?
Tell me. Put me out of suspense. Let me go home and open a vein.'

'Have I the air of _a jeune fille_?'

'Thank goodness, no. But there are such things as widows.'

'And what more do you know about me?'

'Tell me--_are_ you married?'

'You may suppose that I'm a widow.'

'Thank God!'

She laughed.

'Will you marry me?' he asked.

'Oh, marriage is such a bo