In an instant I was after her and caught her.
“Alice—Miss Waters!” I cried, and I seized her arm.
She turned at the sound of my voice as if shot.
“Let me go! Oh, please let me go, Mr. Gore,” she pleaded, and I saw her face flush and her eyes fill up.
“Not unless you’ll come with me to Mr. Ropesend’s house—or tell where you live,” I answered, but, at the same time, I did let go her arm.
“Oh, I can’t. I can’t do it, I tell you, so please go away. You have no right to stop me. Oh, please go away.” And she broke into sobbing and crying like a child.
That was enough. I passed my arm through hers and led her out of the crowd and up the street.
“I shall see you home,” said I, “and I will not leave you until you promise to let me see you in the morning.”
She went along quietly enough at first, and then suddenly burst out afresh into such a violent fit of crying that I was frightened.
“Let me go. Let me go, please,” she sobbed, and I was so upset at the earnest tone of her voice that I almost hesitated and started to turn around.