"I do not doubt it, Betty," I answered. "I know you and respect you, and you shall have no good cause to change your regard for me, if you have any."
"Frequently gentlemen are rude to me in the tap-room, and I submit rather than make trouble by resenting it, but you have always been respectful, and—and I have appreciated it, Baron Ned. Father says I need not go to the tap-room hereafter, but may direct the maids in the house, now that I am growing old—near twenty."
"Twenty?" I asked. And she nodded her head proudly.
"Yes."
"I thought you were still a child," I remarked.
"No, no," she returned, looking up to me open-eyed and very serious. "I am a woman."
"Yes, a beautiful child-woman—the most beautiful in all the world," I said, grasping her hand and holding it a moment till its fluttering ceased. "And I am jealous of every other man who comes near you."
I saw that my remark had offended her, so I continued earnestly: "I meant it, Betty; I meant it. I was not jesting."
Betty sighed, looked quickly up to me, half in doubt, half in inquiry, and was about to speak, but closed her lips on her words and leaned forward, her head drooping eloquently. Her gentleness, her sweetness, and her beauty were so tempting that I could not resist their charm. Again I caught her hand, and it trembled in mine as she tried faintly to withdraw it. I tried to check myself but failed, and I put my arm about her waist. Then, after a mighty effort to stay my words, I said pleadingly:—
"Ah, Betty, I love you. Please, please, Betty, believe me, and—and—just one kiss."