“I am considering it,” she said.
Shonto grasped her hand with eagerness and pressed it. “Thank heaven for that encouragement,” he whispered fervently.
“But—but could I ever understand you?” asked Charmian. “I’m nothing—nobody—a dreamer. They say that I am pretty. If so, isn’t it merely that which has attracted you to me, Doctor? If we were married, wouldn’t you shut yourself away from me, treat me generously and courteously and devotedly, but at the same time never take me into your confidence? Don’t you want me merely as an ornament for the mantle of your success?”
“Why should that be, Charmian?”
“Haven’t you already declined to take me into your confidence about your work—about the glands? I didn’t ask much, did I? I wasn’t trying to pry into your secrets—the mysteries of your profession. I was just looking for a little enlightenment on a subject that has interested me ever since it was brought to the attention of the general public. And you shut up like a clam.”
Shonto’s face showed troubled lines.
“I tried to explain, very carefully,” he pointed out, “that, in this instance, there is a peculiar reason why I cannot tell you what you want to know. But there may come a time when I shall feel at liberty to tell you all. Please trust me—and believe me when I say that, if you can look on my proposal in a favourable light, I will tell you everything. Don’t you think me worthy of such trust, Charmian?”
There was a pleading note in his tones, though they were none the less manly, that caused her to say impulsively:
“Of course I trust you. I know you must have an excellent reason for not talking over your work with me. I’m afraid I’m pretty much of a kid at times, Doctor. And I’ll—I’ll— Well, I’ll think about what you said. Oh, but what a matter-of-fact way we’re taking to talk about such a subject! I think— My goodness! Here comes Andy—alone!”