She shook her head.
“No, no. I––I couldn’t. Oh, Don, you’ll have to give me time to think.”
“There isn’t time,” he frowned.
“We must take time. I’m––I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Afraid of myself,” she answered quickly. “Afraid of Dad. Oh, I’m afraid of every one.”
“Of me?” He took her hand.
“When you speak of to-morrow I am,” she admitted. “While you were talking, there were moments when––when I could do as you wish. But they didn’t last.”
“That’s because you didn’t keep your eyes on the stars,” he assured her gently.
“That’s what I’m afraid of––that I shouldn’t be able to keep them there. Don, dear, you don’t know how selfish I am and––and how many things I want.”