The eyes rested on his with a proud smile, as if she were challenging him, then she went on:
"And it does not matter. I live quite alone; I see no one, no other lady; there is no one to be ashamed of me."
Stafford reddened.
"That's rather a hard hit for me!" he said. "Ashamed! By Heaven! if you knew how I admired—how amazed I am at your pluck and goodness—"
Her eyes dropped before his glowing ones.
"And there is no need to pity me: I am quite happy, quite; happier than I should be if I were playing the piano or paying visits all day. It has quite left off now."
Half unconsciously he put his hand on her arm pleadingly, and with the firm, masterful touch of the man.
"Will you wait one more moment?" he said, in his deep, musical voice. She paused and looked at him enquiringly. "You said just now that you had no brother, no one to help you. Will you let me help you? will you let me stand in the place of a friend, of a brother?"
She looked at him with frank surprise; and most men would have been embarrassed and confused by the steady, astonished regard of the violet eyes; but Stafford was too eager to get her consent to care for the amusement that was mixed with the expression of surprise.
"Why—how could you help me?" she said at last; "even if—"