"You know, Prudence, when a man cares for a girl as I care for you, it
isn't always easy for him to be sober and sensible. You shouldn't have
been so--so dear."

Prudence sighed happily. She was content. This gave her the
long-desired cue.

"Mr. Rayburn," she said gently but decidedly, "I think you ought not to
come here any more."

He walked over to her quickly, and stood beside the chair into which
she had dropped when he kissed her.

"Don't say that, Prudence," he said in a hurried low voice.

"It is true," she persisted, feeling somehow sorry, though she did not
understand why she should feel so. "I--I--well, you know I--you
remember what I told you that first day, don't you? About getting
married, and falling in love, and such things. It is true. I don't
want to love anybody, and I don't want to get married, and Fairy
says--it is--remotely possible--that you might get--very fond of me."

He smiled rather grimly. "Yes, I think it is--remotely possible."

"Then that settles it," she said comfortably. "And besides, I have
such a lot to do that I can't--well, bother--spending so much time
outside as I have with you. I've been neglecting my work, and it isn't
right. I haven't the time."

"Which is your way of saying that you do not like me, isn't it?"