“I shall strive for it as man never strove for a girl’s friendship before,” he declared. “Now that I have removed your distrust—nay, even your hatred—I may hope to gain your good will—which is so much to me.”
She looked at him in unfeigned astonishment.
“Why should you care whether I like or hate you, Mr. Dinsmore?” she asked, looking straight into his face with her dark, childish eyes.
Had he chosen to utter the truth he might have responded:
“For two reasons: first, because I have taken a fancy to you; and second, because you must marry me, whether you will or not, that I may secure the Dinsmore fortune.”
But he only responded, quietly:
“Why should one wish for an enemy when that enemy can be made a friend of, Miss Jessie?”
“Do not call me Jessie!” cried the girl; “I detest it. I am simply Jess—nothing but that.”
“Jess, then,” he said, laughingly. “It shall be as the queen wills.”
“I shall be sure not to like you if you go on making speeches like that!” declared the girl. “I don’t like queens, they are not my style; I have read all about them. I’d rather be a plain American girl than be the grandest queen in the world.”