even think of it."

She seemed partially satisfied, for she gave him her glance more
confidingly. "It is queer that I should have let it worry me so much,"
she said. "It was as it some inner voice were reproving me. All sorts
of fears and queer ideas flocked about me. I--I am just a simple
mountain girl, and you now know what my--my people are like. Why, if
my father were now in prison I could not refuse to--to stick to him as
a daughter should, and for a man in your position to--to--" She broke
off, her eyes now on the ground.

"You mustn't think any more about it," he managed to say, and rather
tardily. "You can't help what he does." Mostyn's passionate gaze was
fixed on her again. "How pretty, how very pretty that dress is!" he
flared out. "Are you going to church this morning?"

"Oh yes," she replied, half smiling down into his eyes. "I must set a
good example to Ann and George."

Burning under the memory of her kiss of the night before, Mostyn told
himself that he must by all means see her alone that day. He must hold
the delicious creature in his arms again, feel the warmth of her lips,
and capture the assurance of a love the like of which was a novelty
even to him.

"What are you thinking about?" she suddenly demanded.

"I am thinking, Dolly, that you have the most maddening mouth that
ever woman had, and your eyes--"