"And yet?"

"You must go back," she insisted, rising abruptly to her feet. "The
quarter of an hour is up. I do not feel happy, sitting here talking with
you. Really, if my father were to return he would be more angry with me
than he has ever been in his life. This sort of thing is not done
amongst my people."

"Little lady," he said, gently forcing her back into her place, "believe
me, it's done all the world over, and there isn't any girl can come to
any harm by being told that a man is fond of her when it's the truth,
when he'd give his life for her willingly. It's just like that I feel
about you. I've never felt it before. I could never feel it for any one
else. And I am not going to give you up."

She was looking at him half fearfully. There was a little colour in her
cheeks, her eyes were suddenly moist.

"I think," she murmured, "that you talk very nicely. I think I might
even say that I like to hear you talk. But it is so useless. Won't you
go now? Won't you please go now?"

"When may I come again?" he begged.

"Never," she replied firmly. "You must never come again. You must not
even think of it. But indeed you would not be admitted. They will
probably tell my father of your visit, as it is, and he will be very
angry."

"Well, when can I see you, then, and where?" he demanded. "I hope you
understand that I am not in the least disheartened by anything you have
said."

"I think," she declared, "that you are the most persistent person I ever
met."

"It is only," he whispered, leaning a little towards her, "because I
care for you so much."

She was suddenly confused, conscious of a swift desire to get rid of
him. It was as though some one were speaking a new language. All her old
habits and prejudices seemed falling away.

"I cannot make appointments with you," she protested, her voice shaking.
"I cannot encourage you in any way. It is really quite impossible."

"If I go now, will you be at the Club to-morrow afternoon?" he pleaded.

"I am not sure," she replied. "It is very likely that I may be there. I
make no promise."

He took her hand abruptly, and, stooping down, forced her to look into
his eyes.

"You will be there to-morrow afternoon, please," he begged, "and you
will give me the rose from your waistband."

She laughed uneasily.

"If the rose will buy your departure--" she began.

"It may do that," he interrupted, as he drew it through his buttonhole,
"but it will assuredly bring me