"I've had a perfectly lovely time," she said. "And I want to say to you
that I have been thinking of several things, and one is that it is
perfectly ridiculous for you to be poor."
"It is rather ridiculous," he admitted, surprised. "Isn't it! And no need
of it at all. Your father made a fortune for my father. All you have to
do is to let my father make a fortune for you."
"Is that all?" he asked, laughing.
"Of course. Why did you not tell him so? Have you seen him?"
"No," he said gravely.
"Why not?"
"I saw others--I did not care to try--any more--friends."
"Will you--now?"
He shook his head.
"Then I will."
"Please don't," he said quietly. Her hand still lay in his; she looked up
at him; her eyes were starry bright and a little moist.
"I simply can't stand this," she said, steadying her voice.
"What?"
"Your--your distress--" She choked; her sensitive mouth trembled.
"Good Heavens!" he breathed; "do you care!"
"Care--care," she stammered. "You saved my life with a laugh! You face
st-starvation with a laugh! Your father made mine! Care? Yes, I care!"
But she had bent her head; a bright tear fell, spangling his polished
shoes; the pulsating seconds passed; he laid his other hand above both of
hers which he held, and stood silent, stunned, scarcely daring to
understand.
Nor was it here he could understand or even hope--his instinct held him
stupid and silent.
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