she answered hotly.

“I make them mine!”

“No — nor is it your privilege to offer them!”

“My — what?”

“Privilege!” she said haughtily, flushing clear to her curly hair; and left me checked. She added: “What you offer is impertinence — however kindly meant. No friendship warrants it, and I refuse.”

I know not what it was — perhaps my hurt and burning silence under the sudden lash of her rebuff — but presently I felt her hand steal over mine and tighten. And looked up, scowling, to see her eyes brimming with tears and merriment.

“How much of me must you have, Euan? Even my privacy and pride? You have given me friendship; you have clothed me to your fancy. You have had scant payment in exchange —