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They sat on the bank below the parapet of the old fort, hidden from observation. He circled her shoulder with his arm. Relaxed after the walk, a chill nipping her throat, conscious of his warmth and power, she leaned gratefully against him.

“You know I'm in love with you, Carol!”

She did not answer, but she touched the back of his hand with an exploring finger.

“You say I'm so darn materialistic. How can I help it, unless I have you to stir me up?”

She did not answer. She could not think.

“You say a doctor could cure a town the way he does a person. Well, you cure the town of whatever ails it, if anything does, and I'll be your surgical kit.”

She did not follow his words, only the burring resoluteness of them.

She was shocked, thrilled, as he kissed her cheek and cried, “There's no use saying things and saying things and saying things. Don't my arms talk to you — now?”

“Oh, please, please!” She wondered if she ought to be angry, but it was a drifting thought, and she discovered that she was crying.