“I _do_!” he protested, “I do, absolutely. I only wanted to tell you that I like it--all this freedom, you know. An English girl of your class would be so--so much more prudent----” “I’m not imprudent!” cried Frances, passionately. “Ah, but you are, though. My dear young lady, you don’t even know my name.” “Well, what is it, then?” she asked, half-laughing, half-furious. “You’d better tell me, if that will make this shocking walk more ‘prudent.’” “Lionel Naylor,” he said. “Haven’t you any letters, any papers, to identify yourself? How can I tell if that’s really your name?” He replied with perfect seriousness: “I’ve one or two things--a letter----” “Oh, nonsense! Couldn’t you see that I was joking? Why on earth should I care _who_ you are? I’m old enough and sufficiently intelligent to find out very soon _what_ you are. I’m not afraid of strange men. I can take care of myself.” “It does no harm for a girl to be careful,” he answered, stubbornly. And that was, apparently, his final word. They went on in silence. Frances counted fifteen blocks without a word. At the first crossing he had rather ceremoniously taken her arm, and he didn’t release it. He seemed quite contented to go on forever in this way. But it provoked Frances beyond measure. She longed to say to him: “Why did you ask me to take a walk, if you didn’t want to speak to me?” She made up her mind that she wouldn’t speak first, no matter how long it was. She had to, though. She looked at her watch. “I’m afraid I’ll have to turn back now,” she said. “It’s time I was home.” “I say!” he cried. “That’s too bad! I wanted to have a talk with you.” “Why didn’t you talk then?” she asked, sharply, and he answered with equal irritability: “My dear young lady, I can’t plunge into things the way you people do. I have to collect my thoughts a bit----” “Strange as it may seem to you,” said Frances, “all the people in this country are not exactly alike.” It began to dawn upon him that she was really annoyed, that these people were possibly as sensitive to offence as himself. Instantly he was very sorry. “I dare say I’m not very tactful,” he said, “I didn’t mean to be offensive, though, I assure you. I admire you people very much.” “_All_ of us?” He laughed. “There are some, of course.... My sister-in-law--She!...” “She’s an American?” “Yes. My brother lives over here, you know. Been here some time. We thought he was a confirmed bachelor. Practically certain not to marry. Then, the very day after I got here, he did it. And such a girl! Of course it made trouble at once.” Frances was interested, and moreover, she could see that he wanted to talk about it. “How?” she asked.