“I say, Isabel,” he began awkwardly.  “Would you be willing to marry me?”

Isabel quickly dried her tears.  “Why, I don’t know,” she answered, much astonished.  Then the practical side of her nature asserted itself.  “Have you got money enough?”

Romeo tendered the handful of currency.  “All this, and plenty more in the bank.”

“I know, but it was the bank I was talking about.  Have you got enough for us to live at a nice hotel and go to the theatre every night?”

“More than that,” Romeo asserted, confidently.  “I’ve got loads.”

“I—­don’t know,” said Isabel, half to herself.  “It would serve them all right.  Allison used to be jealous of you,” she added, with a sidelong glance that set his youthful heart to fluttering.

“Juliet is jealous of you,” Romeo responded disloyally.  “We had an awful scrap this morning because I asked her why she didn’t try to be a lady, like you.”

“Of course,” replied Isabel, smoothing her gown with a dainty hand, “I’ve always liked Juliet, but I liked you better.”

“Really, Isabel?  Did you always like me?”

“Always.”

“Then come on.  Let’s skip out now, the way they do in the books.  Let’s take the next train.”

“Why not get married here?” objected Isabel, practically, “and take the four-thirty into town?  There’s a minister here, and while you’re seeing about it, I can go home and get my coat.”

“All right, but don’t stop for anything else.  We’ve got to hustle.  Don’t tell anybody.”

“Not even Aunt Francesca?”

“No, she’d make a fuss.  And besides, she doesn’t deserve it, if she’s been mean to you.”  Romeo leaned over and bestowed a meaningless peck upon the fair cheek of his betrothed.

“I’ll never be mean to you,” he said.

“I know you won’t,” Isabel returned, trustfully.  Then she laughed as she rose to her feet.  “It will be a good joke on Allison,” she said, gleefully.

“It’ll be a good joke on everybody,” Romeo agreed, happily.

“Listen,” said Isabel.  A faint chug-chug was heard in the distance, gradually coming nearer.  “It’s my car.  I wish you hadn’t been so quick to get rid of it last night.  We could have gone away in it now.”

“Never mind, I’ll buy you another.”

They hoped to reach the turn in the road before the car got there, but failed.  Doctor Jack came to a dead stop.  “Want a lift?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” said Romeo.

“No, thank you,” repeated Isabel, primly.  Colonel Kent had greeted her with the most chilling politeness, and she burned to get away.

“Say,” resumed Romeo, “will you do something for me?”

“Sure,” replied the Doctor, cordially.  “Anything.”

“Will you take a note out to my sister for me?  I shan’t get back for—­ some time.”

“You bet.  Where is it?”

“I haven’t written it yet.  Just wait a minute.”