Baffled, the girl turned away.
"No. I'll send her to you—if I must. But remember, I warned you."
"I shall not soon forget that, Sylvia, nor the splendid loyalty you've shown today. I shall always remember it. Whatever happens, please realize that I am grateful," Heath said earnestly. Then in less serious vein he added: "I never dreamed you were such a valiant little fighter."
His smile, irresistible in brightness, brought a faint, involuntary reflection into Sylvia's clouded countenance.
"Oh. I can fight for people—when I care," cried she, impulsively.
Did the artless confession, the blush that accompanied it, soften the voice of the man so observantly watching until it unconsciously took on the fond, caressing tone one uses toward a child?
"So I see. Run along now, little girl, and fetch Marcia."
"I wish I could make you promise not to listen to her," coaxed Sylvia, making one last wistful appeal.
"I cannot promise that."