“But, Paul, you do not know me. Wait until you do. Then, perhaps, you will change your mind.”
She spoke with emphasis and a strange depth of feeling, and he wondered what she meant.
“I could never change, Dorothy,” he replied with fervor, “unless you wished it; but if you did, do you know I believe it would not be in your power to reverse the bewildering spell you have wrought, and make me hate you, for never before have I felt anything approaching this strange sudden infatuation. But do not keep me in suspense; tell me, I pray, what is this mystery in your life which you think would change my feelings toward you?”
“I belong nowhere. I have no friend in all the wide world,” she answered bitterly.
“You have forgotten Ah Ben,” suggested Paul. She did not answer, but continued stroking the parrot which had lighted upon her shoulder, demanding her caresses with numerous mutterings.
“Modesty prevents my reminding you of my humble aspirations to your friendship,” added Paul, nestling closer to her side. Suddenly she looked up at him with an intense penetrating gaze, while she squeezed the parrot until it screamed.
“Do you think you could show your friendship and stick to me through a terrible ordeal?” she asked earnestly.
“I'm sure of it,” he answered. “My love is not so thin-skinned as to shrink from any test. Only try me!”
“Then get me away from this place,” she cried, “far, far away from it. But, mind, it will not be so easy as you think.”
“Are you held against your will?” demanded Paul.