"How do you know what I am?" she inquired.
"Your face tells me," said the infatuated Richard. "I hope you will forgive me for my rudeness last night. It was all done on the spur of the moment."
"I am glad you are sorry," said the girl, softening.
"All the same, if I hadn't done it," pursued Mr. Catesby, "I shouldn't be sitting here talking to you now."
Miss Truefitt raised her eyes to his, and then lowered them modestly to the ground. "That is true," she said, quietly.
"And I would sooner be sitting here than any-where," pursued Catesby. "That is," he added, rising, and taking a chair by her side, "except here."
Miss Truefitt appeared to tremble, and made as though to rise. Then she sat still and took a gentle peep at Mr. Catesby from the corner of her eye.
"I hope that you are not sorry that I am here?" said that gentleman.
Miss Truefitt hesitated. "No," she said, at last."
"Are you—are you glad?" asked the modest Richard.