She smiled at the eager way in which Alban put the question.
“There is no fear of that,” she answered brightly.
“Not even if you discovered that he loves you?”
“Not even then. Are you content at last? Promise me not to be rude to Mr. Mirabel again.”
“For his sake?”
“No—for my sake. I don’t like to see you place yourself at a disadvantage toward another man; I don’t like you to disappoint me.”
The happiness of hearing her say those words transfigured him—the manly beauty of his earlier and happier years seemed to have returned to Alban. He took her hand—he was too agitated to speak.
“You are forgetting Mr. Mirabel,” she reminded him gently.
“I will be all that is civil and kind to Mr. Mirabel; I will like him and admire him as you do. Oh, Emily, are you a little, only a very little, fond of me?”
“I don’t quite know.”