She began to sob hysterically and the schoolmaster patted her hand with soothing intent. "Of course you can't do that, Janice. A girl like you could do nothing down there in Mexico."
"How do you know?" she demanded, dashing away her tears and looking up at him. "I tell you, Nelson, I am going."
He sighed and shook his head. "Of course you can't do that, Janice," he repeated. "I thought that was all settled last evening."
"It was perhaps settled in your mind; not in mine."
"It would be an unheard-of thing to do. Your uncle and aunt would never allow it."
"Yes, Nelson, I know that. But I will go just the same," the girl told him.
He shook his head again and smiled at her. "You have the will to do it, I don't doubt, Janice. But, really, you couldn't."
Janice opened her lips once more; then she closed them. What was the use of saying anything further? Even Nelson did not believe she would carry out her intention.
"Very well, then," she said, rising and making ready for departure. "I'll say good-bye. You can't see it my way, Nelson; but if it were you who were wounded and alone down there in Mexico do you suppose any power on earth would keep me from going to you?"
She slipped away before the full force of her final speech percolated to the young schoolmaster's brain. He got up to follow her; then he paced the floor of his study instead.