He leaned a little closer, and she suddenly felt her hand clasped in his.
"Virginia," he said,—"yes, I mean it—Virginia, don't be unkind to me, our last night. You know very well that it hurts me to have you speak and look at me so. Besides, we are going to be friends; you promised me that, you know."
"If I did," she answered, "it was very foolish. Friends means the giving and taking of confidences, and I have none to give. I am going to do strange things, and in an odd way, and I have no explanations to offer. If I had friends, they would think that I had taken leave of my senses, and they would want me to explain. That is just what I cannot do. That is why I am sure it would be better if you would let me alone."
"I shall not do that," he answered firmly. "I am not a morbidly curious person, nor do I want to pry into your affairs, but I cannot help feeling that you are in some sort of trouble, and that it would be good for you, in a strange country, to have some one on whose help you could rely in case of need."
"You mean well, I know," she answered, "but you are asking impossibilities. If you should happen to come across me over here, you will understand what I mean. I am going to do things which very likely you would be ashamed to think that any friend of yours would do."
He turned upon her a little angrily.
"Child," he said, "if I weren't so fond of you I think you would make me lose my temper. How old are you?"
"Nineteen," she answered, "but it isn't any business of yours."
"No business of mine!" he repeated. "Heavens! Isn't it the business of any man to look after a child like you? Nineteen years old, indeed, and most of them spent in a farmhouse! How do you know that these things which you talk about doing are right or necessary? Don't you see you are not old enough to be a judge of the serious things of life? You want some one to take care of you, Virginia. Will you marry me?"
"Will I what?" she gasped.