Instinctively Claire’s hands stretched out to meet his, but on the following impulse she drew back, clasping them nervously behind her back.
“Oh, are you sure?” she cried breathlessly. “Are you sure you are sure? Think what it means! Think of the difference it might make! I have no money, no influence; I’d be an expense to you, and a drag when another girl might help. Think! Think! Oh, do be quite sure!”
Erskine’s stern eyes melted into a beautiful tenderness as he looked at her troubled face. He waited no longer, but came a step nearer, and took forcible possession of the hidden hands.
“It is not my feelings which are in question; it is yours. There has been no doubt in my mind for months past. I think you know that, Claire!”
“But—your career?”
“I can look after my own career. Do you think it is the straight thing to suggest to a soldier that he needs a woman to help him in his work? It’s not as a soldier I need you, but as a man. I need you there, Claire. I need you badly! No one else could help me as you can!”
Claire’s lips quivered, but still she hung back, standing away from him at the length of her stretched arms.
“I’ve no money. I’m a—a school-mistress. Your friends will think—”
“I am not considering what my friends will think.”
“Your mother thought—”