"Because I always copy the manuscripts faithfully before Mr. Franks has them for the Argonaut. He is waiting, and I am a slow writer."
"Shall I copy the story for you?"
"Not for all the world," replied Florence, startled at her own vehemence.
Trevor rose, a look of annoyance on his face.
"I am sorry you should think of my offer of help in that spirit," he said; "you don't quite understand: perhaps some day I may be able to make things plain to you. I take a great, a very great interest in you. You have brought—"
"What?" said Florence.
"You have brought a great anxiety and trouble into my life, as well as a very great absorbing interest; but I can say no more now."
"If you will go away," said Florence, "I will begin to work. I have a headache, and am confused. Go away and come again, if you like. I shall be better the next time you come."
"Why won't you tell me what is troubling you?"
"How do you know anything troubles me?"