In two minutes he had entered the little walled-in spot, and there, indeed, stood Anita.

Within the chapel he could hear voices--the chaplain's voice directing some changes; Kettle and a couple of men moving seats and arranging things at the chaplain's directions.

But as long as they remained in the chapel they mattered little to Broussard.
Anita's cheeks hung out their red flags of welcome.
"At last!" said Broussard, clasping her hand, "I have watched and waited for this chance!" In the little secluded spot, with a small, crescent moon stealing into the sunset sky and the happy stars shining down upon them, Broussard told Anita of his love.

He knew not what words he spoke, for Love, the master magician, speaks a thousand languages, and is eloquent in all.
Nor did Anita know what reply she made.

After a deep and rapturous silence they returned to earth, only to find it still Heaven.
"I love you better than anything on earth except my honor," said Broussard, holding Anita's little gloved hand in his.
"Yes," answered Anita softly, "next your honor." "And I have loved you for a long time," Broussard continued, "for a whole year." In their brief, bright lives, a whole year seemed a long time.