She smiled wanly. "I am asking myself if I ought to let you do it," she said. "It doesn't seem very fair to you."
"It chances to be the thing I want," said Jake, his fingers still busy. "And I reckon you won't disappoint me--won't draw back? I can count on you?"
She rose, turning fully towards him. "You can certainly count on me," she said. "But are you really sure you meant it? It isn't going to spoil your life?"
Jake stood upright with a jerk. She met the extraordinary brightness of his eyes with an odd mixture of boldness and reluctance.
"My girl," he said, in his queer, anomalous drawl, "there ain't a man anywhere in God's universe who knows what he wants better than I do. If I didn't want this thing I shouldn't ask for it. See?" He came to her with the words, and laid one finger on her arm. "Don't you know it's your friendship I'm after?" he said, with a touch of aggressiveness. "Why, I've been after it ever since that night I found you down in the dark alone on the edge of the parade. You were up against it that night, weren't you? And didn't like me over much for butting in. Do you know what you made me think of? A forlorn princess of the Middle Ages. There's a mediæval flavour about you. I don't know where you keep it. But it makes me feel mediæval too."
She drew back a little, stiffened ever so slightly. Something in her resented the freedom of his speech. Something rose in swift revolt and clamoured to be gone.
He must have seen her gesture, her quick, protesting blush; for he turned almost instantly and jerked the whip-lash through his fingers, testing it.
A fitful gleam of sunshine suddenly pierced the clouds behind him and shone on his bent head. His hair gleamed like burnished copper. The tawny glint of it made her think of an animal--a beast of prey, alert, merciless, primeval.
She put on her hat. "I must be getting back to Bunny," she said.
"I am coming with you," said Jake.