The tone was wholly new to Juliet—she did not know that any man could be so tender, so beautifully kind. "It's because he's a doctor," she thought. "He's used to seeing people when they don't feel right."
"I'm so sorry," he was saying. "Your brother didn't mean anything by it, little girl. He was just teasing."
"He wasn't," returned Juliet, wiping her eyes. "Don't you think I know when he's teasing and when he isn't? I'm not a lady; I'm only a tomboy, and now he's gone away with her and left me all alone."
"You'll never be alone if I can help it," he assured her, fervently.
"Look here, do you suppose you could ever learn to like me?"
"Why, I like you now—I've always liked you."
"I know, but I don't mean that. Do you think you could ever like me a whole lot? Enough to marry me, I mean?"
"Why, I don't know—I never thought—" Juliet's voice trailed off into an inarticulate murmur of astonishment.
"Won't you try?" he pleaded. "Oh, Juliet, I've loved you ever since I first saw you!"
The high colour surged into her face. He was not joking—he meant every word. Even Juliet could see that.
"Won't you try, dear? That's all I'll ask for, now."