“You have been frightened. I knew you would be, though you pretended to be so brave. I see the tears on your lashes. Now, aren’t you glad I came?” triumphantly.
“Yes, I’m glad, for I did wrong to come. I’ve grown nervous waiting here alone, and you may take me home at once,” she answered, gratefully, throwing on her hat and turning toward the door.
“Wait a little, Floy, for there’s a storm coming up. I did not think you would want to go until daylight, when the committee called for you with a carriage.”
She recoiled, looking at him with startled eyes.
“Do you mean to say that they did not come with you—that you came here alone?” she demanded.
“Why, yes, that was what I told you, Floy. I feared the storm would frighten you, so I came to remain with you till morning.”
The wet lilacs at the window shook and rustled as in a rising gale, but neither heeded it in their excitement.
He pressed closer, and tried to take her hand, but she drew herself to her full height, the color rushing to her pale cheeks, her eyes like blue fire.
“Go! leave me at once!” she commanded, imperiously.
“Leave you, Floy—I can not! Did you not confess just now that you had grown nervous waiting here alone? And there were tears on your lovely cheeks when I found you drooping here. No, darling, I shall stay and cheer your solitude.”