"I was so big a blockhead for a minute," he confessed, laughing, "as to think that was meant for me."
A fresh wave of colour swept her cheeks. Then, shrugging her shoulders, she said, "You are mistaken."
"Yes, I always am being mistaken," he answered; and turning to the dog, he added, "You are lucky, old boy. Your master is treated en canaille, but you who are canaille itself get caresses and endearments."
"Uncle Leo," she began, with flashing eyes, "I hope that you will be chivalrous enough, to-day at least, not to take advantage of my helpless position to scoff at me."
"But, my dear child, ..." he said soothingly.
"Don't call me your dear child. I am not your dear child.... I am a stranger to you, as much as any one else. I am a lonely forsaken girl, whom you found receiving hospitality under your roof; you let her stay, because you cannot very well tell her to go. But simply because I am still your guest, I beg that you will not speak to me now, but go away. Leave me to my fate. I dare say that I can find my way home, though after that I am not quite certain what I shall do."
She stood leaning against the inglenook biting her lips, and stared at the fire, which cast a golden glow over her flowing hair and naked brown arms. He was quite unmanned by the loveliness of the picture.
He came close to her, and smiling into her amazed eyes, stroked her on the forehead and cheeks three times.
She gazed up at him motionless, with half-open mouth. She seemed scarcely to comprehend what was happening. For it was the first time any man had ever stroked her cheek.
"What's the matter, sweet one, dearest? What have I done to you?" he asked in a low voice, leaning over her. "Tell me why you rage so furiously against me."