“Zadia!” exclaimed Dolph. “This is no place for you!”
She would not let him put her aside. “No, no!” she almost panted; “you shall not fight! Please, Mr. Scott, don’t fight with Dolph! Promise me you will not—for my sake.”
Renwood flushed with shame, thinking the others might fancy he was seeking protection from his enemy behind his sister’s skirts; and he begged her to go away, but she remained firm.
“I am sure it is all a mistake, and there is no reason why you should be enemies,” she said. “Anyhow, you must not fight. You must promise me, Dolph, that you will not fight with him.”
“I can’t do it,” muttered Renwood. “If he’s bound to fight, I shall not run away. He’ll get all he wants.”
Immediately the girl turned appealingly to Don.
“Then you must give me your promise,” she said. “Please do!”
It was hard to resist such an appeal from such a source, and Don stood there biting his lip, silent and uncertain. She stepped up to him boldly, and placed her hands on both his arms, looking up into his flushed face in supplication.
“Please promise me!” she breathed.
He drew a long breath. “All right,” he said, “I’ll promise; but don’t ask any more of me—don’t expect anything more!”