Mr. Gillet dropped the strap and the pipe, and looked across to her
with tender eyes.

"I am more than twice your age, Miss Meg, old enough nearly to be
your father--you will forgive me for saying all this, won't you?
I was thinking, of my sister who died. I had another little sister,
too, a year older, but she was hard--only event to her once.
She is one of the best women in England now, but her lips are severe.
Little Miss Meg, could not bear the thought of you growing hard."

Half a dozen big tears had fallen down among the forks. Meg was
crying because it was borne upon her what a very hateful creature
she was. First Alan lectured her and spoke of his sister, and now
this man.

He misinterpreted her silence.

"I have no right to speak to you like this, because my life has been
any colour but white--that is it, isn't it, Miss Meg?" he said with
great sadness.

Meg dropped her sheltering hands.

"Oh, no," she said, "oh! how CAN you think so? It is only I am so
horrid." She rummaged in her pocket and brought out the ribbon.

"Will you take it again?" she said--"oh, PLEASE, just to make me
feel less horrid. Oh, please take it!"

She looked at him with wet, imploring eyes, and held it out.