There was in his eyes a look of such intensity that young Wolfe was startled.
“Of course I'll promise.”
“You must make friends with her first. She must learn to like you—”
Francis Wolfe smiled a trifle fatuously. It was merely boyish. A little more, however, would have made the smile ungentlemanly. Jerningham continued, very earnestly:
“Listen, lad. She will have to do more than merely like you—she will have to trust you. And the only way to make a young and pretty woman trust a young and not unattractive man is by having that man never, never, never fail in respect of her. He may be in love with her, or he may only pretend to be in love with her; but he must act as if he regarded her with such awe that he dare not make direct love to her. Do you get it?”
“Yes. But—”
“There is no but. She must first like you, which is not difficult; and then she must trust you as a true friend, which is, to say the least, a slower matter. Be a brother to her. Do you think you like me well enough to do this for me now?”
Jerningham looked at young Wolfe steadily—a man's look.
Frank said: “I'll do it gladly. And my sisters—”
“They must never know about—about Naida!” interrupted Jerningham, hastily.