She looked up so suddenly that I ceased speaking, fearful of a rebuff; but saw only the grave, grey eyes looking straight into mine, and a sudden, deeper colour waning from her cheeks.

“Whatever I am,” said I, “I can be what I will. Else I were no man. If your — beauty — has moved me, that need not concern you — and surely not alarm you. A woman’s beauty is her own affair. Men take their chance with it — as I take mine with yours — that it do me no deep damage. And if it do, or do not, our friendship is still another matter; for it means that I wish you well, desire to aid you, ease your burdens, make you secure and safe, vary your solitude with a friendly word — I mean, Lois, to be to you a real comrade, if you will. Will you?”