The girl was mistress of herself, and the man’s naive directness was in a fashion reassuring.  She was also, for a moment, very angry.

“It is a little sudden, is it not?” she said.  “Did I ever give you any cause for believing that I would?”

“No,” said Alton, “I don’t think you did.”

Nellie Townshead afterwards wondered a little at her composure and temerity, but she fancied she knew what had prompted the man, and, because it hurt her horribly, all the pride she had came to her assistance, and in place of embarrassment she was sensible of a desire to test him to the uttermost.

“Then,” she said, “one should have a reason for asking such a question, and, at least, something to urge in support of it.”

Alton moved forward, and leaned over the back of her chair, where because he did most things thoroughly he attempted to lay one hand caressingly on her hair.  Miss Townshead, however, moved her head suddenly, and the man drew back a pace with a flush in his face.

“It is very lonely up at the ranch, and I have begun to see that I have been missing the best of life.  Mine is too grim and bare, and I want somebody to brighten and sweeten it for me.”

The girl was very collected.  What she had borne during the last few days had turned her gentleness into bitterness and anger.  Thus it was, with a curious dispassionate interest she would have been incapable of under different circumstances, she continued to try the man, realizing that though it was no doubt unpleasant to him, there was one great reason which precluded the possibility of his suffering as he would otherwise have done.

“But you are going to live in the city now,” she said.

“Yes,” said Alton gravely.  “That is why I want you more.  You see I know so little, and there is so much you could teach me.  I want somebody to lead me where I could not otherwise go, though I know it is asking a great deal while I can give so little.”

This, the girl realized, was, though somewhat impersonal, wholly genuine.  The tone of chivalrous respect rang true, and she could comprehend the half-instinctive straining after an ideal by one whose belief in her sex was, if slightly crude, almost reverential.  It touched her, though she knew that to benefit him it could only be offered to one woman, and she was not that one.

“And that is all?” she said.

“Of course!” said Alton too decisively, because he remembered, as Miss Townshead quite realized, that the other reason must always remain hidden.  This was also as balm to her pride, and there was a trace of a smile in her eyes.

“It is, as you appear to understand, very little.”

“Well,” said Alton, who seemed to take courage, “now when I see your meaning there is a trifle more.”

Again he moved a pace, and the girl fancied he would have laid his hand upon her shoulder.  “No,” she said decisively.