"You seem greatly excited," she said.
He made a great effort, controlled himself, and, still holding her, began to plead.
"Please don't go, Bess!" he said. "Please don't!"
"But why--why?" she insisted.
"Because I say so."
"Humph!"
"Because I ask it. Please don't; do it for me, this once. You'll be sorry if you do. Please don't go!"
His eyes were full of the plea he was incoherently stammering. He was greatly moved, greatly agitated.
"Why, Dick," she said, "what is the matter with you? You seem to take this trifle very much to heart. You seem to have some special interest, some deep reason. I wish you'd tell me what it is. Why shouldn't I go to see poor Gusta? She's in trouble--she was always good to me."
There was a sudden strange wild expression in his face, his lips were slightly parted. The moments were flying, and he must be off.