“I’m not going with you. I—I—didn’t mean to go at first. It was only fun. You know Maude wouldn’t like it. She mightn’t think I was just like a sister to you, Frank.”
Frank Hinton flushed and held tight to her hand.
“What are you driving at, my dear?” he asked, a little roughly. “Of course Maude won’t think you’re like my sister. She knows better. What has she got to do with you and me, anyhow?”
“You’re as good as engaged to her, aren’t you, Frank?” a little wistfully.
“Good heavens, no! I never thought of such a thing.”
“But Emmie says you are. And so maybe Maude might get jealous of me; that’s all, Frank, only I’m in earnest; you can’t take me to the dance,” nodding her bright head decidedly, and trying in earnest now to pull away the hand he held so tightly.
But Frank tried to draw her closer to him, while he said, indignantly:
“I wish Emmie’d mind her own business, and look after Charley McVey instead of me. I think he needs watching. I’m not engaged to Maude Fitz, and never will be engaged to anybody unless it’s you, Little Sweetheart.”
“Quit your joking; I don’t admire it,” Thea answered, a little shortly; “and let go my hand, Frank Hinton. It don’t belong to you.”
“But mayn’t I have it, darling—say, mayn’t I have it?” whispered the young man, eagerly, his eyes gleaming with sudden passion, his voice vibrant with emotion that made her draw back further with a sort of dawning terror, and exclaim in a scared voice: