“I do not want to hurt you, Monsieur Littledale. You have been so kind, so generous; but you make me do things I don’t want to do,—things that are against my traditions, for I am traveling alone, unprotected—”
“Mademoiselle Duvernoy, I shall consider it a great privilege to be your friend now and hereafter.”
“That cannot be; it is not possible; it is not right. We go different ways in the world.”
“I don’t believe that—”
“We go different ways,” she repeated firmly. “If you will be generous, you will not ask any more—please.”
She ended so low that it came to me in a whisper.
“I can be generous, but not to that point,” I said obstinately. “I want another answer.”
“Monsieur Littledale, we are just chance acquaintances,” she said, bringing her hands together in impulsive entreaty. “There is no reason—”
“I do not believe we are what you say. It was something more than that which brought me to your side that first night here.”
“What do you mean?”