She smiled with innocent gayety.  “Very well—­Fred. . . .  Fred. . . .  Now that I’ve said it, I don’t find it strange.”  She looked at him with an expression between appeal and mockery.  “If you’d only let me get acquainted with you.  But you don’t.  You make me feel that I’ve got to be careful with you—­that I must be on my guard.  I don’t know against what—­for you are certainly the very best friend that I’ve ever had—­the only real friend.”

He frowned and bit his lip—­and felt uncomfortable, though he protested to himself that he was simply irritated at her slyness.  Yes, it must be slyness.

“So,” she went on, “there’s no reason for being on guard.  Still, I feel that way.”  She looked at him with sweet gravity.  “Perhaps I shouldn’t if you didn’t talk about love to me and kiss me in a way I feel you’ve no right to.”

Again he laid his hands upon her shoulders.  This time he gazed angrily into her eyes.  “Are you a fool?  Or are you making a fool of me?” he said.  “I can’t decide which.”

“I certainly am very foolish,” was her apologetic answer.  “I don’t know a lot of things, like you and father.  I’m only a girl.”

And he had the maddening sense of being baffled again—­of having got nowhere, of having demonstrated afresh to himself and to her his own weakness where she was concerned.  What unbelievable weakness!  Had there ever been such another case?  Yes, there must have been.  How little he had known of the possibilities of the relations of men and women—­he who had prided himself on knowing all!

She said, “You are going to marry?”

“I suppose so,” replied he sourly.

“Are you worried about the expense?  Is it costing you too much, this helping father?  Are you sorry you went into it?”

He was silent.

“You are sorry?” she exclaimed.  “You feel that you are wasting your money?”

His generosity forbade him to keep up the pretense that might aid him in his project.  “No,” he said hastily.  “No, indeed.  This expense—­it’s nothing.”  He flushed, hung his head in shame before his own weakness, as he added, in complete surrender, “I’m very glad to be helping your father.”

“I knew you would be!” she cried triumphantly.  “I knew it!” And she flung her arms round his neck and kissed him.

“That’s better!” he said with a foolishly delighted laugh.  “I believe we are beginning to get acquainted.”

“Yes, indeed.  I feel quite different already.”

“I hoped so.  You are coming to your senses?”

“Perhaps.  Only—­” She laid a beautiful white pleading hand upon his shoulder and gazed earnestly into his eyes—­“please don’t frighten me with that talk—­and those other kisses.”

He looked at her uncertainly.  “Come round in your own way,” he said at last.  “I don’t want to hurry you.  I suppose every bird has its own way of dropping from a perch.”

“You don’t like my way?” she inquired.