Joan surveyed his unkempt figure,--the torn clothing, his unshaven face; the bandages made of her own undergarments, which he still wore,--and the happy smile on her young face broadened.
"Well, you see, Buck, dear," she said joyously, "you can"t be a proper hero if you don"t carry the scars of battle on you." She sighed contentedly. "No, I"m afraid it doesn"t need much "grit" to marry you."