"I should hate to live in Gartley Fort," said she abruptly. "One
might as well be in jail."
"If you marry Random you will have to live there, or on a baggage
wagon. He is R.G.A. captain, remember, and has to go where glory
calls him, like a good soldier."
"Glory can call until glory is hoarse for me," retorted the girl
candidly. "I prefer an artist's studio to a camp."
"Why?" asked Hope, laughing at her vehemence.
"The reason is obvious. I love the artist."
"And if you loved the soldier?"
"I should mount the baggage wagon and make him Bovril when he was
wounded. But for you, dear, I shall cook and sew and bake and--"
"Stop! stop! I want a wife, not a housekeeper."
"Every sensible man wants the two in one."
"But you should be a queen, darling."
"Not with my own consent, Archie: the work is much too hard.
Existence on six pounds a week with you will be more amusing. We
can take a cottage, you know, and live, the simple life in
Gartley village, until you become the P.R.A., and I can be Lady
Hope, to walk in silk attire."
"You shall be Queen of the Earth, darling, and walk alone."
"How dull! I would much rather walk with you. And that reminds
me that dinner is waiting.
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