"Of your caring for me! I am terribly in love with you."
"I fear I must have given you encouragement," Gladys said. "I'm awfully sorry. You see I never thought of this, and I don't know what to say to you."
"Won't you give me a chance, just a chance?"
"But my father would never hear of it. Unfortunately he seems to be prejudiced against you. Won't you wait a while, and then, if you are still in the same mind, speak to me again in—say—a year. By that time you will, no doubt, have made some sort of a position for yourself."
"And in the meanwhile you will get engaged to some one else," Shiel exclaimed.
"I don't think I shall," Gladys said. "Of course, I meet crowds of men, but you see I am not the marrying sort."
"Do you think you would care for me just a bit?" Shiel asked eagerly.
"A tiny, tiny bit, perhaps," Gladys said, "but I'm not at all sure. I can think of no one now but my father, so that if you value my good opinion, or really want to prove your devotion to me, you must, for the time being, devote yourself to him. Who knows—it may lie in your power to do him some service."
"I don't see how," Shiel replied, somewhat despondingly. "But no matter—after you, your father and your father's affairs shall be my first consideration. You will let me see you sometimes, won't you?"
"Sometimes," Gladys laughed. "Good-bye! Don't make any mistakes to-morrow. Your performance to-night was not as good as usual." And, with this somewhat cruel remark, she stepped lightly into her motor, and drove off.