"You don't want to take me," she said. "I wonder why men always try to keep girls from knowing things--from learning of the world as it is--and then blame them for their ignorance! You naturally think I am a very silly, light girl, but--" A great panic overtook John Martin's heart. He could hardly keep back the tears. He felt the blood rush to his face again, but he did not know just what he said. "I do not--I do not! You are--I--I--should hate to be the one to introduce you to such a view of life. I was an old fool to talk as I did this evening. I--" "Oh, that is it!" exclaimed Gertrude, relieved. "You found me ignorant, and content because I was ignorant, and you regret that you have struck a chord--a serious chord--where only make-believe or merry ones were ever struck between us before." John Martin fidgeted. "No, it is not that I would like to strike the first serious chord for you--in your heart, Gertrude." He had called her Gertrude for years. Indeed the Miss upon his lips was of very recent date, but there was a meaning in the name just now as he spoke it that gave the girl a distinct shock. She felt that he was covering retreat in one direction by a mendacious advance in another. She arose suddenly. "Lizzie Feedour is looking her best tonight," she said. "She grows handsomer every day." She had moved forward a step, but he caught the hand that hung by her side. She faced him with a look of mingled protest and surprise in her face; but when her eyes met his, she understood. "Gertrude, darling!" was all he could say. This time the blood dyed her face and a mist blinded her for a moment. She remembered feeling glad that her back was turned to everyone but him, and that the window drapery hid his face from the others, for the intensity of appeal touched with the faintest shimmer of happiness and hope told so plain a story that she felt, rather than thought, how absurd it would look to anyone else. She did not realize why it seemed less absurd to her. She drew her hand away and the color died out of his face. Her own was burning. She had turned to leave the room when his disappointed face swam before her eyes again. She put out her hand quickly as if bidding him good-night and drew him toward the door. He moved beside her as in a dream. "After you take me to see the Spillini family," she said, trying to appear natural to any eyes that might be upon her, "we--I--" They had reached the portière. She drew it aside and he stepped beyond.