"Beg your pardon, I do not."
"Miss Walton, give your honest opinion of me—just what you think."
"Will you do the same of me?"
"Oh, certainly!"
"No, do not answer in that tone. On your honor."
Gregory was now caught. If he agreed he must state his doubts of her real goodness; his low estimate of women in general which led to his purpose to tempt her. This would not only arm her against his efforts, but place him in a very unpleasant light. "I beat a retreat, Miss Walton. I am satisfied that your opinion would discourage me utterly."
"You need have no fears of that kind," she said; "although my opinion would not be flattering it would be most encouraging."
"No, Miss Walton, I am not to be caught. My every glance and word reveal my opinion of you, while yours of me amounts to what I used to hear years ago: 'You are a bad boy now, but may become a good one.' Come, give me your hand."
As she complied she gave him a quick, keen look. Her intuition told her of something hidden, and he puzzled her.
Her hand was ungloved, and he thought, "When have I clasped such a hand before? It could help a Hercules. At any rate he would like to hold it, for it is alive."