She looked at him curiously.
"You want something from me?"
"I want your help, Mademoiselle."
"What makes you think that I can help you?"
"I do not think so. I only hope so."
"And if I do not help you, then—you will tell my father?"
"But no, but no! Debarrass yourself of that idea, Mademoiselle. I am not a blackmailer. I do not hold your secret over your head and threaten you with it."
"If I refuse to help you—" began the girl slowly.
"Then you refuse, and that is that."
"Then why—" she stopped.