The Firefly of France Part 28

"Dear me!" she exclaimed. "What fervor! Can this be my Mr. Bayne, the Mr. Bayne of our adventure, who never turned a hair no matter what mad things happened, and who was always so correct and conventional and so immaculately dressed, and so--"

"Stodgy! Say it!" I cried with utter recklessness. "I know I was; Dunny told me so that evening at the St. Ives. Have as many cracks at me as you like. I was getting fat; I was beginning to think that the most important thing in the universe was dinner. Well, I'm not stodgy any longer, Esme Falconer; you've reformed me. But of all the men in all the ages who were ever desperately, consumedly, imbecilely in love--"

In the distance two figures were strolling toward the blue car, the duke and the d.u.c.h.ess. When they reached it, the Firefly cast a glance in our direction and sounded a warning, most unwelcome honk upon the horn. They were going, stony-hearted creatures that they were! They were taking Esme back to Paris. At the thought I abandoned my last pretense at self-command.

"Esme, dearest," I implored, "do you think you could put up with me? Could you marry me when I've done my part over here--or even sooner--right away? A dozen better men may love you, but mine is a special brand of love--unique, incomparable! Are you going to have me--or shall I jump into the lake?"

The sunset light was in her hair and in the gray, starry eyes she turned to me--those eyes that, because their lashes were so long and crinkled so maddeningly, were only half revealed. Her lips curved in a fleeting smile.

"Oh, you dear, blind, silly man! Do you think any girl could help loving you--after all that has happened to you and me?" she whispered.

Then I caught her to me; and despite my crutches and my bandaged head and that atrocious horn in the distance honking the signal for our parting, I was the happiest being in France--or in the world.

"I knew all along it was a dream, and it is! Such things don't really happen. No such luck!" I cried.