“Go away?” in surprise. “What put such an idea in your head?”
“You wouldn’t send me?”
Strange these thoughts should find entrance in her mind when he had just asked himself that curious question so akin to it.
“What do you mean, little one?”
“If—if you married—some one—who did not want me,” in so desolate a tone that it gave him a pang.
“But I am not going to marry any one.”
“Are you very, very sure?” with an indrawn breath.
He took her face between his hands suddenly and turned it upward. It was scarlet and tears beaded the long lashes.
“Come,” he said in soft persuasion, “what is behind all this? Who has been talking to you? If it is Mère Lunde——”
“No—she said it was not true.”