"That's a very good reason," he responded, guardedly. "I'm glad you thought of me, rather than of any one else."
He was pleased to note that even to his own ears his accent was polite, but no more. At the same minute he found the useful formula he had been in search of—"I mustn't let her know I'm in love with her."
"There's no one else for me to think of," she explained, in self-excuse. "If there were, I shouldn't bother you."
"That's not so kind," he said, keeping to the tone of conventional gallantry.
"I don't mean that I haven't plenty of friends. I know lots of people—naturally; but I don't know them in a way to appeal to them like this."
"Then so much the better for me."
"That's not a reason for my imposing on your kindness; and yet I'm afraid I must go on doing it. I feel like a person in such desperate straits for ready money that he's reckless of the rate of interest. Not that it's a question of money now—exactly."
"It doesn't matter what it's a case of. I'm at your service, Miss Guion—"
"I know. That's why I asked you to come. I want you to keep Colonel Ashley from doing what he proposed this afternoon."
She spoke more abruptly, more nervously, than was her habit.