“You must not talk that way,” cried the young girl, her face aflame. “You are only saying this out of politeness, a sense of chivalry, and while I appreciate all you are doing for me I could not accept any such sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice!” he retorted, with increasing ardor. “Call it blessing; call it heavenly boon; call it the pinnacle of my desire, the apogee of my hopes––call it anything in the world but sacrifice.”
“Oh, you must not talk to me this way!” exclaimed the girl, sinking back into her chair and covering her face with her hands.
“But I certainly must,” the young man reeled on. “It is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. It has come upon me like a stroke of lightning––it may not seem reasonable––it may not seem sane. I can’t help that. It is here––inside of me”–––
“Stop,” Helen interposed again, her voice faint and tremulous. “You are taking advantage of my helpless situation. Why, you hardly know me!” she added, with a swift change of tone as if she had made a sudden discovery. Taking her hands from her face she looked up at him through widening eyes misty with tears.
The young man bit his lip and turned his head away.
“Pardon me,” he said bitterly, after a moment’s pause. “I had not thought of it in that light. It 280 does seem as if I were taking advantage of you.” He looked at her steadily a moment until she dropped her eyes.
“Can you think I am that sort of a man?” he asked abruptly and the tenseness of his voice made her glance up at him again.
Helen made another remarkable discovery––that he had fine eyes and a splendid mouth and nose.
“Can you think I am that sort of a man?” he repeated slowly, forcing her to continue to yield her eyes to his earnest regard.