"What stories?" he demanded.
"Oh! I couldn't tell you."
"H'm. There never was a Halkett but was painted so black that he got to think it was his natural colour. That doesn't matter. And you don't care about the stories. You've some notion—D'you know that I went to the same school as your brothers?"
"Yes, I know." She swung herself to her knees. "But you're not like them. But that isn't it either. It's because you're a man." She laughed a little as she knelt before him. "I can't help feeling that I can—that men are mine—to play with. There! I've told you a secret."
"I'd guessed it long ago," he muttered. He stood up and turned aside. "You're not going to play with me."
"Just a little bit, George!"
"Not a little bit."
"Very well," she said humbly, and rose too. "I may never see you again, so I'll say good-bye."
"Good-bye," he answered, and held her hand.
"And if I don't go away, and if I feel that I don't want to play with you, but just to—well, really to be friends with you, can I be?"