“But you’ve done a great deal for me as it is,” I added. “I couldn’t ask for more.” Somewhat disconnectedly I continued, “I think you’re the pluckiest girl I ever saw not to have been afraid of me.”
“Oh, it wasn’t pluck. I saw at once that you wouldn’t do me any harm.”
“How?”
“In general. I was surprised. I was excited. In a way I was overcome. But I wasn’t afraid of you. If you’d been a tramp or a colored man or anything like that it would have been different. But one isn’t afraid of a—of a gentleman.”
“But I’m not a—”
“Well then, a man who has a gentleman’s traditions. You’d better go now,” she whispered, suddenly. “If you want to come back as I’ve suggested—any time to-morrow forenoon—I’d speak to my father—”
“Not about this?” I whispered, hurriedly.
“No, not about this. This had better be just between ourselves. I shall never say anything to any one about it, and I advise you to do the same.” I had made a low bow, preparatory to getting out, when she held up the scrap of paper she had crumpled in her hand. “Why did you write this?”
But I got out of the room without giving a reply.
I was descending the back stairs when I heard a door open on the third floor and Elsie’s voice call out, “Regina, are you talking to anybody down there?”