She looked at him with a smile few men could resist, and held out her hands.
"Be friends, Earle; I like you too well, after all, to travel with you while you look so cold and stern. Give me one smile—only one—then I shall feel more at my ease."
"I do not think my smiles cheer, or the loss of them depresses you. Neither can I smile to order; still you need have no fear of traveling with me."
It was in her nature to respect him more, the more difficult he seemed to please.
"I shall manage him in time," she thought.
"I shall return with you, Earle," she said. "I have been thinking it all over, and I will go at once. I will not wait to say good-bye to the people here."
"But that seems strange—not quite right. Why not go and bid them farewell? Tell them the good fortune that has happened to you."
"No; they are very fond of me—the children especially. You do not know; they would not let me come away."
"But it does not seem right," persisted Earle.
"It is right enough; if I go back to them I shall not go with you. I can write to them as soon as I reach England, and tell them all about it."