“Did you not have my note?” she asked.
He had hoped, he said, to save her the trouble of writing.
She handed him her father's bunch of keys, and left the room.
George went to the laird's closet, and having spent an hour in it, again sought Alexa. The wonderful watch was in his hand.
“I feel the more pleasure, Alexa,” he said, “in begging you to accept this trinket, that it was the last addition to your dear father's collection. I had myself the good fortune to please him with it a few days before his death.”
“No, thank you, George,” returned Alexa. “It is a beautiful thing—my father showed it me—but I can not take it.”
“It was more of you than him I thought when I purchased it, Alexa. You know why I could not offer it you.”
“The same reason exists now.”
“I am sorry to have to force myself on your attention, but—”
“Dawtie!” cried Alexa.