There was a tone of earnestness in my plea but she only shook her head decisively, lips pressed close together. The faint glow of the overhead light rested on the slightly uplifted face, and the sight of her features yielded me fresh confidence.
"You have no cause to feel afraid of me," I went on soberly, in the silence. "Can't you tell that by my face?" and I removed my cap, standing before her uncovered. She lifted her lashes, startled and curious, gazing at me for the first time. I met her glance fairly, and the slight resentment in her eyes faded, her clasped hands moving uneasily.
"I—I am not afraid of—of you," she returned at last doubtfully. "It is not that, but—but really I cannot permit you to accompany me farther."
"Only to the place where you said you lived," I urged eagerly. "I promise not even to take note of the number, and will never bother you any more."
Her fine eyes hardened; then sank slowly before mine.
"That—that was a lie also," she acknowledged, half defiantly. "I—I do not live about here."
I stared at her in sudden doubt, yet remained loyal to my first impression.
"All the greater reason then for not leaving you here alone."
She laughed, a faint tinge of bitterness in the sound.
"Surely you cannot imagine I would feel any safer in company with a burglar?" she asked sharply. My face flushed.