, also. Still turning from him, she
rested her chin in her hand. His face was still, but there was the
beginning of an expression in it which she had never seen. Now that the
window was shut it was very quiet in the room, and the air was strangely
heavy and soft and dim. Now and then the panes rattled a little. Griggs
looked at the graceful figure as Gloria sat thinking what she should
say. He followed the lines till his eyes rested on what he could see of
her averted face. Then he felt something like a sharp, quick blow at his
temples, and the blood rose hot to his throat. At the same instant came
the bitter little pang he had known long, telling him that she had never
loved him and never could.

"Are you really my friend?" she asked softly.

"Yes." The word almost choked him, for there was not room for it and for
the rest.

She turned quietly and surveyed the marble mask with curious inquiry.

"Why do you say it like that," she asked; "as though you would rather
not? Do you grudge it?"

"No." He spoke barely above his breath.

"How you say it!" she exclaimed, with a little laugh that could not
laugh itself out, for there was a strange tension in the air, and on her
and on him. "You might say it better," she added, the pupils of her eyes
dilating a little so that the room looked suddenly larger and less
distinct.

She knew the sensation of coming emotion, and she loved it. She had
never thought before that she could get it by talking with Paul Griggs.
He did not answer her.

"Perhaps you meant it," she said presently. "I hardly know. Did you?"

"Please be reasonable," said Griggs, indistinctly, and his hands gripped
each other on his knee.

"How oddly you talk!" she exclaimed. "What have I said that was
unreasonable?"

She felt that the emotion she had expected was slipping from her, and
her nerves unconsciously resented the disappointment. She was out of
temper in an instant.

"You cannot understand," he answered. "There is no reason why you
should. Forgive me. I am nervous to-day."

"You? Nervous?" She laughed again, with a little scorn. "You are not
capable of being nervous."

She was dimly conscious that she was provoking him to something, she
knew not what, and that he was resisting her. He did not answer her last
words. She went back to the starting-point again, dropping her voice to
a sadder key.

"Honestly, will you be my friend?" she asked, with a gentle smile.

"Heart and soul--and hand,