“Who are you that dares assume authority over me?”
“I am your true friend, I hope, Miss Van Lew, and I would not willingly see your fair young life thrown away.”
She startled him by murmuring:
“My friend! Come, I like that word! All other men have been my lovers!”
She did not guess how his heart beat as he answered:
“I could be your lover, too, Miss Van Lew, but fate is against me. You seem to need a friend. Let me hold that precious place.”
They walked slowly along the street, her trembling hand drawn through his arm. In spite of all her trouble Viola could not help seeing how tall and handsome he was, with glorious dark eyes that had given her a strange, delicious thrill every time she met their earnest glance.
She had a subtle feeling that here was a true heart—one to rest on and confide in, sure of pity and sympathy.
She faltered, weakly:
“You—you would not wish to be my friend if you knew me well. There are—are”—gaspingly—“men who hate me because I—I used to flirt when I did not know it was very cruel.”