"Look here, Betty; for the hundredth time, won't you marry me?
I've loved you ever since I was old enough to know what love
meant. You've been awfully sweet and patient with me, and I've
tried to respect your wishes and not speak of this except when it
seemed necessary--" he paused, and they both laughed a little,
but he looked weak and helpless with his bloodless face showing
between the gaps in the bandages that swathed him. Perhaps it
was this sense of his helplessness that roused a feeling in Betty
that was new to her.

"You see, Charley, I fear--I am sure I don't love you the way I
should--to marry you--"

Charley, greatly excited, groaned and sat up, and groaned again.

"Oh, please, Charley-lie still!" she entreated.

"That's all right--and you needn't pull your hand away--you like
me better than any one else, you've told me so; well, don't you
see that's the beginning of really loving me?"

"But you wouldn't want to marry me at once?"

"Yes I would--right away--as soon as I am able to stir around!"
said Charley promptly. "Don't you see the immediate necessity
there is of my being in a position to care for you, Betty? I
wasn't served this trick for nothing."

"You must try not to worry, Charley."