Why should he concern himself with things so wholly feminine? most likely Dora was right, at least he had never found her wrong in anything yet. Perhaps that drooping hat and feather might be a snare to the female population of Hepshaw. It had startled even him as she had walked up the aisle that Sunday. Let them fight it out; he was not sitting there in that lamp-lit fragrant drawing-room to talk about Miss Marriott. He was Dora's guest, summoned there by her own will and behest. Mr. Cunningham did not often leave them alone like this, the opportunity was too precious to be wasted.
Garth moved a little restlessly as he pondered thus with his arm against Dora's chair. The shapely head was very close to him. For the first time he felt an irresistible impulse to touch the smooth coil of fair hair with his hand, it looked as fine and silky as a child's.
"Dora," he began, and then again he stopped. "Dora," and this time he came a little closer, almost leaning over her, but not touching her, "shall things be different between you and me?"
He had taken her by surprise, and for an instant she turned pale, but she recovered herself immediately.
"Mr. Clayton," she returned, carefully avoiding his eyes, and sorting her crewels industriously, "I thought I had broken you of that foolish habit of calling me Dora."
Garth drew back, stung by her tone.
"What does that mean?" he inquired hotly. "If I am not to call you Dora how are things to be put straight between us? I thought we understood each other, and that the time had come for me to speak. What does this mean?" continued the fiery young man, twisting his moustache in sudden excitement and wrath.
"Did you think to-night was a fitting opportunity," inquired Dora with mournful gentleness, "with poor darling Flo, and papa in such a state? How could you be so inconsiderate and selfish," looking at him with appealing blue eyes.
But Garth's feelings had been outraged, and no soft looks could mollify him. He was a well-meaning, plain-spoken young fellow, and he had brought himself with much searching of conscience to the brink of an honest resolution. Dora's coldness of rebuke had wounded his susceptibility and grazed his pride. No woman should trifle with his affections, so he told himself, and least of all his old friend Dora.
"I am sure you did not mean to be inconsiderate," she said, looking up at him with a beseeching glance.