was scared. I did not see how you could possibly love me. A terror
came over me that in the Den you must have mistaken me for someone
else. It was a darkish night, you know." "You are wanting me to say
you are handsome."

"No, no; I am wanting you to say I am very, very handsome. Tell me you
love me, Grizel, because I am beautiful."

"Perhaps," she replied, "I love you because your book is beautiful."

"Then good-bye for ever," he said sternly.

"Would not that please you?"

"It would break my heart."

"But I thought all authors--"

"It is the commonest mistake in the world. We are simple creatures,
Grizel, and yearn to be loved for our face alone."

"But I do love the book," she said, when they became more serious,
"because it is part of you."

"Rather that," he told her, "than that you should love me because I am
part of it. But it is only a little part of me, Grizel; only the best
part. It is Tommy on tiptoes. The other part, the part that does not
deserve your love, is what needs it most."

"I am so glad!" she said eagerly. "I want to think you need me."