'But I want to say a word to you,' he said hurriedly. 'I have been trying for an opportunity these two days. I hope you won't think it strange or premature or impertinent——'
'Oh no,' said Nan, with a sudden fear of she knew not what; 'but let us go indoors.'
'No, here, now,' he pleaded. 'Only one moment. I know we are young; perhaps I should not ask you to pledge yourself, but all I ask for is to be allowed to hope. Surely you understand. Nan, will you be my wife—some day?'
He would have taken her hand; but she withdrew quickly, and said with a sort of gasp—
'Oh, I am so sorry. I had no idea. It must be my fault, I am sure; but I did not know—I was not thinking of such a thing for a moment——'
'But you will give me leave to hope?' he said. 'I mean some day—not now.'
'Oh no, no!' she said with an earnestness that was almost piteous. 'If I have made a mistake before, this must be clear now. Oh, don't think of such a thing. It never could be—never, never. I am very sorry if I have pained you; but—but you don't know anything about me; and you will soon forget, for we are both far too young—at least I am—to think of such things; and—and I am very, very sorry.'
'But do you mean that I am never to think of it again, even as a hope?' he said, slowly.
'Oh, I do mean that—I do! If there has been a mistake, let it be clear now. Can I not be your friend?'
She held out her hand. After a second or so of hesitation, he took it.