“I think,” he said gravely, “that it is a very serious matter.”
She interpreted uncertainly the intent gaze of his beautiful, somber eyes.
“I came here,” she faltered, “to—to find a home. I had no wish—”
“I understand,” he said, his voice deep and sympathetic; “people have been talking to you—about me. Am I right?”
She was silent, a pink flush slowly staining her cheeks.
“You have not yet learned upon what slight premises country women, of the type we find in Brookville, arrive at the most unwarrantable conclusions,” he went on carefully. “I did not myself sufficiently realize this, at first. I may have been unwise.”
“No, you were not!” she contradicted him unexpectedly.
His lifted eyebrows expressed surprise.
“I wish you would explain to me—” he began.
Then stopped short. How indeed could she explain, when as yet he had not made clear to her his own purpose, which had grown steadily with the passing weeks?