"Miss Hastings—Venna—may I call you Venna? because you have never feared a storm in the past is not to say you never will. Won't you give me the privilege of sheltering you from all the storms of the future? Venna, I love you. Not with the half love of a youth, but with the strong love of a matured manhood that knows the world and can therefore appreciate a girl like you the more."
He leaned over her but did not touch her. His eyes seemed to burn their passion into her very soul and for a moment held her spell-bound.
She might have expected this, yet she had drifted on. Now she was suddenly confronted with the passionate love of a man who was in dead earnest and evidently expected a return. Feeling the embarrassment of refusing him, she dropped her eyes in confusion.
He took her hand and pressed it hard.
"You will then be my wife, Venna?"
The same masterful way he expected her to accept him. What could she say?
"You do love me?" he again insisted.
She finally gained courage and raised her eyes to meet his with frank regret.
"Mr. Hadly, I wish that I could love a man like you, for I know your love is one for any girl to be proud of. I know you are sincere in caring for me. But I don't think it is in me to love any man—not yet, I am sure."
His eyes darkened with disappointment.