What say you, Mademoiselle ?" And I crushed her hands in mine.
I could feel her slight form tremble as I waited her reply, and believed she peered across my shoulder through the darkness, imagining she saw the dead Indian's form lying there.
"Do you truly wish it ?" she questioned at last, as though warring with herself.

"Think you she would greatly care ?" 'T is a strangely perverse thing, the human mind.

As there dimly dawned upon me a conception of her meaning,--a knowledge that this seemingly heart-free girl cared enough for me to exhibit such jealousy of another,--I would not undeceive her by a word of explanation.
"I certainly do wish it," was my grave answer, "nor does it greatly matter what the desire of any other may be.

This is not an invitation to a ball, Mademoiselle.

I beg you answer me; will you go ?" She looked toward me, wondering at my words.
"Yes," she said simply.