He stretched out a steady hand, and laid it on her shoulder. She quivered at his touch, but she did not attempt to resist.
"Don't be scared," he said very gently. "I know I'm as ugly as blazes; at least, I've been told so, but there's nothing else to alarm you if you can once get over that."
There was a note of quaint raillery in his voice. He did not try to draw her to him. Yet she was conscious of a strength that did battle with her half-instinctive aversion—a strength that might have compelled, but preferred to attract.
Unwillingly, at length, she looked at him, meeting his eyes, good-humouredly critical, watching her.
"I am not frightened," she said, with an effort. "It's only that—just at first—till I get used to it—it feels rather strange."
There was unconscious pleading in her voice. He took his hand from her shoulder, looking at her with his queer, speculative smile.
"I don't want to hustle you any," he said. "But if that's all the trouble, I guess I know a remedy."
Violet drew back sharply.
"Oh, no!" she said. "No!"
She was terrified for the moment lest he should desire to put his remedy to the test. But he made no movement in her direction, and another sort of misgiving assailed her.