She shook her head hastily, but her eyes fell beneath his penetrating gaze.
"It isn't--Sylvia, it isn't Phil?"
Sylvia's head went up and there was a flash in her brown eyes, a deeper flush on her cheeks.
"It is nobody. Jack, you haven't any right to ask that," she rebuked him hotly.
"Sorry," he apologized. "Consider it unasked." "So it is old Phil," he thought.
"I don't want to marry anybody--not for a long, long time," Sylvia went on swiftly. "Anyway, I couldn't marry anybody who was just a boy. I've got to marry a man." In her confusion Sylvia hit hard again; harder perhaps than she really meant.
Jack rose and made one or two quick turns tip and down the balcony. Then he came to a halt before Sylvia.
"Maybe I deserve that," he said soberly. "No doubt I do. See here, Sylvia, if I can show you I am a man, will it help any?"
Sylvia hesitated. It would help a great deal and she knew it. And yet could she promise anything while she was still so uncertain of herself? Had she any right to hold out any hope?
"Sweetheart, wouldn't there be any chance for me?" he pleaded.