At the front door he called me. With his back to it he held out his
hands, took mine in his, crushed them in clasp so close they hurt.

"Danny," he said, "why do you torment me so? You don't know what
you're doing, living where such things are possible as have taken
place tonight; where any time you may be--"

His voice broke, and in amazement I looked at him. Horror and fear
were in his face.

"Do you think it is so awful a thing to see a poor little creature
who has been hurt and needs help?" I drew my hands away. "You talk
as if I were a child, Selwyn."

"You are a child in your knowledge of--of certain phases of life. If
I could only marry you tomorrow and take you away from here you
should never know them!"

"Well, you can't marry me to-morrow!" I made effort to laugh, but
Selwyn's face, his manner, frightened me. "I want to stay down here
and--and stop being as ignorant as a child of things women should
know. Behind the shelter of ignorance most women have already
shirked too long." I held out my hand, "If you stay a bit longer,
Selwyn, I'll say things I shouldn't. Goodnight."

With a shrug of his shoulders he went down the steps, and as I
watched him, for a moment I felt tempted to call him back. It was
not unusual for us to part indignant with each other. We invariably
clashed, disagreed, and argued hotly if we got on certain subjects,