Her Prairie Knight
Sir Redmond watched her, his eyes a-shine; Beatrice in this mood was something to worship. He was almost afraid to speak, for fear she would snuff out the tiny flame of hope which her half-finished sentence had kindled. He leaned forward, his face eager.
"Beatrice, only say you will go—with me, dear!"
Beatrice started; for the moment she had forgotten him. Her eyes kept to the hills. "Go—to England? One trip at a time, Sir Redmond. I have been here only ten days, and we came for three months. Three months of freedom in this big, glorious place"
"And then?" His voice was husky.
"And then—freckle lotions by the quart, I expect."
Sir Redmond got upon his feet, and he was rather white around the mouth.
"We Englishmen are a stubborn lot, Miss Beatrice. We won't stop fighting until we win."
"We Yankees," retorted she airily, "value our freedom above everything else. We won't surrender it without fighting for it first."
He caught eagerly at the lack of finality in her
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