"I--I must dress." Laughing joyously, he went to her and gathered the soft masses of her hair in his hands, and piled it up in a glorious disarray about her face and head, holding it there, and still laughing into her eyes.
"Joanne, you are mine!" "Unless I have been dreaming--I am, John Aldous!" "Forever and forever." "Yes, forever--and ever." "And because I want the whole world to know, we are going to be married by a minister." She was silent.
"And as my wife to be," he went on, his voice trembling with his happiness, "you must obey me!" "I think that I shall, John." "Then you will not brush your hair, and you will not change your dress, and you will not wash the dust from your face and that sweet little beauty-spot from the tip of your nose," he commanded, and now he drew her head close to him, so that he whispered, half in her hair: "Joanne, my darling, I want you _wholly_ as you came to me there, when we thought we were going to die.
It was there you promised to become my wife, and I want you as you were then--when the minister comes." "John, I think I hear some one coming up the front steps!" They listened.

The door opened.

They heard voices--Blackton's voice, Peggy's voice, and another voice--a man's voice.
Blackton's voice came up to them very distinctly.
"Mighty lucky, Peggy," he said.

"Caught Mr.Wollaver just as he was passing the house.

Where's----" "Sh-h-hh!" came Peggy Blackton's sibilant whisper.
Joanne's hands had crept to John's face.
"I think," she said, "that it is the minister, John." Her warm lips were near, and he kissed them.
"Come, Joanne.