The handmaiden hung her head; trembled.
"Your words shall be mine, O one I love," she whispered.

"So going or staying, I am beside you." "And you, Goodwin ?" he turned to me.

I shrugged my shoulders--after all I had no one to care.
"It's up to you, Larry," I remarked, deliberately choosing his own phraseology.
The O'Keefe straightened, squared his shoulders, gazed straight into the flame-flickering eyes.
"We stick!" he said briefly.
Shamefacedly I recall now that at the time I thought this colloquialism not only irreverent, but in somewhat bad taste.

I am glad to say I was alone in that bit of weakness.

The face that Lakla turned to Larry was radiant with love, and although the shamed hope had vanished from the sweet eyes, they were shining with adoring pride.