"Oh, come now, Miriam! You haven't heard all I've got to tell you. You've never let me really present my case, as we lawyers say. If you could see things as I do—"
"But I can't, and you mustn't ask me to-day. I'm tired—"
"It would rest you."
"No, no; not to-day. Don't you see I'm not—I'm not myself? I've had a very trying morning."
"What's the matter? Tell me. I can keep a confidence even if I can't do some other things. Come now! I don't like to think you're worried when perhaps I could help you. That's what I should be good for, don't you see? I could assist you to bear a lot of things—"
His tone, which was so often charged with a slightly mocking banter, became tender, and he attempted to take her hand. For a minute it seemed as if it might be a relief to trust him, to tell him the whole story and follow his counsel; but a second's thought showed her that she could not shift the responsibility from herself, and that in the end she should have to act alone.
"Not to-day," she pleaded. "I'm not equal to it."
"Then I'll come another day."
"Yes, yes; if you like, only—"
"Some day soon?"