"Please don't count on me; I am the most disappointing of creatures."
But he disregarded her words. "I hope not; at any rate, I must know."
"I warn you," she said.
"Nevertheless, I insist; and yet—I don't quite know how to begin. It isn't a new story to you perhaps—what I am trying to say—but it is to me, I can assure you—and it means everything to me. I don't even have to tell you what it is—you must have seen it in my eyes. I—I have never cared much for women—I am a man's man, but—"
"Please don't," she interrupted, quietly. But he continued, unheeding:
"You must know that I love you. Every man must love you, but no man could love you more than I do. I—I could make a lot of romantic avowals, Miss—Mildred, but I am not an adept at such things. You can make me very happy if—"
"I am sorry—"
"I know. What I have said is trite, but my whole heart is in it. Your father approves, I am quite sure, and so it all rests with you."
For the first time the girl realized the deadly earnestness of the man and felt the unusual force of his personality, which made it seem no light matter to refuse him. He took his disappointment quietly, however, and raised himself immensely in her estimation by his graceful acceptance of the inevitable.
"It is pretty hard on a fellow," he smiled, "but please don't let it make any difference in our relations. I hope to remain a welcome visitor and to see as much of you as before."