“Allow me to remedy that. My name is Albert Grover, at your service.”
“I beg you will leave me, sir,” said Helen, her heart beating rapidly.
“I would rather not, indeed. You are alone, and require an escort.”
“I would rather not trouble you, sir; I shall do very well alone.”
“It is no trouble whatever—on the contrary, quite a pleasure. Will you accept my arm?”
“No, sir, I would much rather not.”
“Upon my word, you are not treating me well. When I announce myself as one of the warmest admirers of your charming voice, I am sure you will not be cruel enough to repulse me. Let me insist, then, upon your accepting my arm for the remainder of your walk.”
Helen was quite terrified by the young man’s persistency. Too young to fear any peril except the annoyance of the present moment, she felt an apprehension which she could not define.
“Pray, leave me, sir,” she said, in accents of entreaty.
“I am sure you don’t mean that,” returned her persecutor, endeavoring to place her arm in his.