"Peter—I wish—you hadn't—said this!"
"Do you mean you don't care—a bit?" he cried, protestingly. "Have I frightened you? You said yourself that living one day up here was like weeks somewhere else! Somehow I've not thought of your going away—ever. You seemed such a part of it here. You're so—different—from all the girls I've known! You're such a—pal. That's the kind a man needs!"
Nancy was biting her lip to hide its trembling. Over her swept a reverence for this that Peter Hyde was offering her—she knew that a man's pure soul was being bared before her. His awkward words came slowly because they were born of a deep feeling. She was not worthy!
"Oh, Peter! Peter! Please—I'm—I can't let you say all this! I'm not—what you think me! I'm a cheat! You'd hate me if——"
He caught her hand. "I know what you are, Nancy—you're the best, truest, straightest-hearted little girl that ever lived!"
With an effort that hurt Nancy pulled herself together. She looked away so that she might not see that it hurt Peter Hyde when she pulled her hand from his close clasp.
"Peter—we must be—sensible." She hated her own words, but something within her, told her that she must say them. "We've been jolly comrades—here, but—I'm not cut out for—this sort of life. I'd hate it—after a little; I'd go mad on a farm with just cows and pigs and things around," she caught her breath; "I'm really an awfully selfish girl, Peter, and I've set my heart on my career! I'll always put that before anything—anyone else! That wouldn't be fair—to you. You must forget me and find someone who will help you in your work."
His face was turned from her—his silence frightened her. She tried to make her tone light. "You've been a fine pal, Peter, you've helped me a lot. You've taught me a great many things, too. I've always thought that farmers and—and——"
He wheeled suddenly.
"Nancy, you haven't said you didn't care for me, any!" he cried.