me. I admit I'm rather dazed as yet. You may think I'm talking to
you with the frankness--perhaps the rashness--of a boy, since you
are 'immeasurably older,' but the time is not very distant when I
shall take my course with the strength and resolution of a man."

"I should be sorry to be the very innocent cause of leading you
into thorny paths. I truly think you will find more happiness here
in your quiet country life."

His only answer was an impatient gesture.

"Perhaps," she resumed, "if you knew more of the world you would
fear it more. I'm sure I fear it, and with good reason."

"I do not fear the world at all," he replied. "I would fear to lose
your esteem and respect far more, and, distant as you are from me,
I shall yet win them both."

"Mr. Atwood, I suppose I have as much vanity as most girls, but
you make me blush. You are indeed dazed, for you appear to take me
for a melodramatic heroine."

"Pardon me, I do not. I've been to the theatre occasionally, but
you are not at all theatrical. You are not like the heroines of
the novels I've read, and I suppose I've read too many of them."

"I fear you have," she remarked dryly. "Pray, then, What am I like?"

"And I may seem to you a hero of the dime style; but wait, don't
decide yet. What are you like? You are gentle, like your mother.