He related the talk that had passed between the young woman and himself. He told even of his gaze at the stars and his theatric declaration to stand as her protector. But he did not tell that she had caught his hand. In that act there was something sacred to him.
"As I said before, you're all right," declared Warren. "No one but a great man could have done what you have done tonight. Why, that old fellow was a jewel, and was not revealed until you brushed the dust off him. Two hundred copies? He shall have them, together with a write-up that will make this town's hair stand on end. And, by the way, don't you think you had better get at it while it's fresh?"
"Don't you fear. It will never fade, my boy. It is in my mind to stay."
"Look here, don't let that joke turn on you," said Warren. "It would be serious if you should fall in love with her."
"Yes, but I won't."
"Were you ever caught by a woman?"
"Not very hard; were you?"
"Rather," Warren answered; "I loved a girl several years ago, while I was running a paper over at Beech Knob. Yes, sir, and I reckon I loved her as hard as a woman was ever loved. I thought about her every day. And I believe she cared for me."
"It's of no use to ask you why you didn't marry her. Money, I suppose."
"That's it, Lyman; money. You see, her old man was rather well fixed, and one day when he was in the office I borrowed ten dollars of him. Then I couldn't go to the house, you see, and before I could pay it back the girl was married. Lost one of the best girls this country ever produced just because I couldn't raise ten dollars to pay her father. I guess Brother McElwin wishes now that he had let you have the hundred. It would have given him a hold on you."