"In what age do you think you are living, Paula—in the twentieth century or in the middle ages? Put all such nonsense out of your head. They couldn't do what you suggest unless a medical commission signed papers of commitment, and how could they get them? You'd have no difficulty in proving that you are as sane as they are."
Paula's face brightened. This dream had been haunting her, and she felt a sense of relief that she had been able to confide it to some one.
"I suppose it is foolish," she faltered. "But you know how it is when one gets a fixed idea. It's hard to shake it off."
Mr. Ricaby looked at her in silence, a wistful expression on his face. Had he dared, he would have gone forward and taken her in his arms, telling her hotly that he loved her, and asking her to let him henceforth be her natural protector. But there was no response in the girl's face to the tumult that raged in his own heart. Her thoughts were not of him. He checked the ardent words that rushed to his lips, and, as usual, was silent.
"Won't you have some tea?" she asked carelessly, quite unconscious of what was passing in his mind. Before he could reply there was a sharp rap at the door, which half opened.
"May a fellow come in?" called out a cheerful voice.
The next instant Tod Chase poked his head in the room. Paula rose.
"Come in— I'm very glad to see you," she said, advancing with outstretched hand. The flush of pleasure that covered her cheek was proof enough of the genuineness of her cordiality.
Tod came in, good humored as usual, and with a broad grin on his face. All in one sentence he blurted out:
"Hope I don't intrude—looks kind of cozy in here. Been trying to come round for a week, but our factory's been working overtime these days—greatest rush you ever saw—a fellow's kept on the jump—how have you been? You look just right. Howdy, Mr. Ricaby?"