She was still defiant. She put it briefly. "I was in the wood above Duck Rock. He came by. He spoke to me."
"And you loved him from the first?"
She nodded, with the desperate little air he had long ago learned to recognize.
"Oh, Rosie, tell me this. Do you love him—much?"
She was quite ready with her answer. It was as well the Mastermans should know. "I'd die for him."
"Would you, Rosie? And what about him?"
Her lip quivered. "Oh, men are not so ready to die for love as women are."
He leaned toward her, supporting himself with his hands on the desk. "And you are ready, Rosie! You really—would?"
She thought he looked wild. He terrified her. She shrank back into the dimness of a mass of foliage. "Oh, what do you mean? What are you asking me for? Why do you come here? Go away."
"I'll go presently, Rosie. You won't be sorry I've come. I only want you to tell me all about it. There are reasons why I want to know."