tude—bent shoulders, bowed head, and the huge umbrella he held protectingly above her, became, somehow, a caress. "Oh, I'll try to make myself more worthy of you, miss," he pledged, voice trembling.
"Hadn't you better call me by my first name?" Reba suggested.
"Rebecca," he corrected gently. He was evidently deeply stirred. "I'll try to become what you'd like me to be," he went on earnestly, "and all the time I'm away, I'll be working, and improving myself—making myself more fit and suitable for you. And when the three years are up, and I come back, if I'm not—if I've failed to become what you expected, I shan't hold you to your promise—Rebecca," he said fervently.
"Oh, but it was my idea," exclaimed Reba. "I thought perhaps," she began again, "that it might be just as well for us to be—married before you went away," she brought out bravely.
"Before a week from yesterday? We sail Saturday week."
"I think it could be managed," she said.
"But as I am? So—so unfit for you?"
"I think it's the safest way." Then, candidly, "I've got to go back home Saturday," she explained, "and take care of my invalid mother, and if we're only engaged my first duty will always be there, while if we're married—don't you see, if we're married—I belong to you."
"To me! You belong to me!" He drew in a deep breath. "You'll be back here bearing my name for me?"
"Well," she hesitated over that a little, "I didn't
