"Am I to infer that mine is of a valueless nature?"
"Ask yourself, Mr. Merwyn, just what it is worth."
"It is greater than I have ever bestowed upon any one else," he said, hastily; for this tilt was disturbing his self-possession.
Again she smiled, and her thought was, "Except yourself."
He, thinking her smile incredulous, resumed: "You doubt this?"
"I cannot help thinking that you are mistaken."
"How can I assure you that I am not?"
"I do not know. Why is it essential that I should be so assured?"
He felt that he was being worsted, and feared that she had detected the absence of unselfish good-will and honest purpose toward her. He was angry with himself and her because of the dilemma in which he was placed. Yet what could he say to the serene, smiling girl before him, whose unflinching blue eyes looked into his with a keenness of insight that troubled him? His one thought now was to achieve a retreat in which he could maintain the semblance of dignity and good breeding.
With a light and deferential laugh he said: "I am taught, unmistakably, Miss Vosburgh, that my regard, whatever it may be, is of little consequence to you, and that it would be folly for me to try to prove a thing that would not interest you if demonstrated. I feel, however, that one question is due to us both,—Is my society a disagreeable intrusion?"