"You wanted to marry me?" he persisted.
"I thought I ought to. Somebody had to look after you, and I am used to looking after father. I like helpless men."
"So you were sorry for me? It was pity——"
"Rubbish. I believe in you. If you have a chance to work out your salvation you will be a big man. If you are hectored to death, you will kill yourself, or compromise, and that will be the end of you."
"You see that—you understand——"
He pushed back his chair and came to her.
"You think that little you can stand between me and these things that I must compromise with?"
She nodded at him, brightly. He leaned over, took her two small hands, and leaned his face against them.
"Thank you," he said, simply; "but I won't have it."
"Why not?"