"But there's danger just the same."
"I hope not. I won't cross that bridge until I come to it."
Beth was silent for a long moment and then with a glance at the clock on the mantel slowly gathered her music, aware of his voice close at her ear.
"And if I do this, Beth,—if I get what belongs to you, will you believe that I have no motive but friendship for you, that I care for you enough to want you to forgive me for what has happened?"
He had caught her fingers in his own but she did not try to release them.
"Oh, don't speak of that—please! I want to forget you—that day."
"Can't you forget it more easily by remembering me as I am now, Beth? See. I want you as much now as I did then—just as much, but I cannot have you until you give yourself to me."
What did he mean? She wasn't sure of him. If marriage was what he meant, why didn't he say so? Marriage. It was such an easy word to say. Her fingers struggled in his.
"Please, Mr. Nichols," she gasped.
"You mean that you won't—that you don't care enough——?"