"That's just it. You'd fight too well."
"I don't——"
"She has ways of drawing men to her which you know nothing about. They are her weapons. I know you'd fight. You'd fight to the last because it is in you to, and I'm afraid, very much afraid, that when you found your weapons were not enough you'd use hers."
There fell between them a long silence, while Molly slowly pondered these last words and gradually apprehended their meaning. In the darkness she could feel the blood tingeing her face, forehead, and neck. At first she was inclined to be angry and to show it, but the man's evident sincerity, coupled with the fervor of his incidental declaration of love, softened her.
"I don't believe I ever had anybody tell me such things before," she could not restrain herself from saying, "and I don't know whether I ought to thank you for your lack of trust in me. However, you'll be there, and I can rely on your protection against these awful dangers."
"I will not be there," contradicted Graham bluntly.
"Well, then, there's Harry." She said the name out of bravado to show that there was no reason why she should not say it.
"Yes," cried Graham, with a burst of anger that astonished her. "It is he I mean."
It was the red flag to them both, the idea of this man. "I think you'd better go now," she replied coldly.
Graham turned away with a little curse.