The lovely, half-laughing compassion of her look nearly upset his
self-possession. He drew closer to her side.

"Innocent!" he exclaimed, passionately--"if you would only listen
to reason--"

She shook her head.

"I never could!" she declared, with an odd little air of penitent
self-depreciation--"People who ask you to listen to reason are
always so desperately dull! Even Priscilla!--when she asks you to
'listen to reason,' she's in the worst of tempers! Besides, Robin,
dear, we shall have plenty of chances to 'listen to reason' when
we grow older,--we're both young just now, and a little folly
won't hurt us. Have patience with me!--I want to tell you some
quite unreasonable--quite abnormal things about love! May I?"

"Yes--if _I_ may too!" he answered, kissing the hand he held, with
lingering tenderness.

The soft colour flew over her cheeks,--she smiled.

"Poor Robin!" she said--"You deserve to be happy and you will be!
--not with me, but with some one much better, and ever so much
prettier! I can see you as the master of Briar Farm--such a sweet
home for you and your wife, and all your little children running
about in the fields among the buttercups and daisies--a pretty
sight, Robin!--I shall think of it often when--when I am far
away!"