"You!" Her lips formed the word. She seemed confounded by his suddenness. "You!"
He gained no idea from the repeated monosyllable.
"I will pack up my traps and go at once, rather than rob you of further sleep. Perhaps you will kindly make my excuses to your sister." He was turning, but added, "I evidently owe you an apology for remaining last night. I hope you understand that I had no excuse to give your sister—none, at least, that would not have been too true to suit you or too untrue to suit me."
She made an imperious gesture; she spoke so low that he wondered at the power of command in her tone. "Go back and take your sleep out—you need it. Come to breakfast without saying that you have seen me. I have no explanation. I have nothing to say—except—" she lifted a weary face—"except that I hoped you were too tired to be wakeful."
His incredulity was overcome by pity. "Can I do you no service?"
She shook her head. "I have already asked far too much." Her voice sank as she spoke.
"We are neighbors, and I think we must be friends. You are evidently in need of help."
"From heaven—yes. But from you only what I have said."