"You see," Dan began laboriously. "I'm sort of worried by some talk that's been going on 'round the factory lately. It hadn't come direct to me until to-day, but I got wind of it every now and then. I know it's not true, but it mustn't go on. There's one way to stop it. Do you know what it is?" Nance shook her head, and he went on. "You and I have been making a mess of things lately. Maybe it's been my fault, I don't know. You see a fellow gets to know a lot of things a nice girl don't know. And the carnival ball business--well--I was scared for you, Nance, and that's the plain truth." "I know, Dan," she said impatiently. "I was a fool to go that time, but I never did it again." Dan fingered the papers on the desk. "I ain't going to rag about that any more. But I can't have 'em saying things about you around the factory. You know how I feel about you--how I always have felt--Nance I want you to marry me." Nance flashed a look at him, questioning, eager, uncertain; then her eyes fell. How could she know that behind his halting sentences a paean of love was threatening to burst the very confines of his inarticulate soul? She only saw an awkward young workman in his shirt sleeves, with a smudge across his cheek and a wistful look in his eyes, who knew no more about making love than he knew about the other graces of life. "I've saved enough money," he went on earnestly, "to buy a little house in the country somewhere. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?" Nance's glance wandered to the tall gas-pipe that had been their unromantic trysting place. Then she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against them to keep back the stinging tears. If Dan loved her, why didn't he say beautiful things to her, why didn't he take her in his arms as Mac had done, and kiss away all those fears of herself and of the future that crowded upon her? With her head on his shoulder she could have sobbed out her whole confession and been comforted, but now-- "You care for me, don't you, Nance?" Dan asked with a sharp note of anxiety in his voice. "Of course I care!" she said irritably. "But I don't want to get married and settle down. I want to get out and see the world. When you talk about a quiet little house in the country, I want to smash every window in it!" Dan slipped the worn drawing he had in his hand back into his pocket. It was no time to discuss honeysuckle porches. "We don't have to go to the country," he said patiently. "I just thought it was what you wanted. We can stay here, or we can go to another town if you like. All I want is to make you happy, Nance." For a moment she sat with her chin on her palms, staring straight ahead; then she turned toward him with sudden resolution. "What's the talk you been hearing about me?" she demanded. "There's no use going into that," he said. "It's a lie, and I mean to stamp it out if I have to lick every man in the factory to do it." "Was it--about Mac Clarke?"