"As long as you're O.K. now," he went on, "I'm not sorry you missed that party. That's the worst of Grimes. He caters to all sorts. You heard her talk, I suppose?"
"Yes."
He furtively studied her face. "I hope you don't think we're as friendly as she made out?"
"Oh, no."
Paul looked greatly relieved.
"I bank a lot on what you think," he said. "You're the kind of girl who makes a fellow want to toe the mark."
"Don't," she entreated, writhing under his praise. "You rate me too high."
"Too high!" He laughed excitedly and caught her hand when she moved to go. "You didn't mind my telling you?" Then, without awaiting a reply, he blurted: "There's a heap more to say. I want to take you out of all this—away from such riffraff as the girl you didn't see; I want—I want you, Jean."
She tried to speak, but he read refusal in her troubled eyes and cut her short.
"Don't answer now," he begged. "I didn't expect to tell you this so soon. I don't expect you to say yes straight off. I'm not good enough for you, Lord knows, but nobody could care more. Promise me you'll think it over. Promise me that, anyhow."