"And yet you can spend a good portion of your time in the mines!" she said, bringing her face round and smiling at him. He was glad she had introduced a lighter note into their talk. "I get my contrasts that way," he returned. "Besides, you can't imagine how jolly it is to drop down into the warm darkness on a broiling sunny day. Come along to the mines some time, and I'll take you down." "I should be scared to death," she declared. Quite unexpectedly he put his strong, thin hand over hers. "I don't think so," he answered. "I wouldn't take you where there was any danger. You would be safe with me." Pamela flushed deeply. There was in the strong, steady pressure of the nervous fingers which closed upon her hand so much of latent force, of protective power, of sex, that she felt strangely frightened. She wanted to withdraw her hand, and could not; some influence stronger than her own will prevented her. She felt oddly stirred, and immensely troubled and disconcerted. With an effort she lifted her eyes, disturbed and faintly questioning, to his. He was leaning forward, looking into the flushed face with earnest, compelling gaze. "I'm going back to-morrow," he said jerkily, and was quick to see the startled expression which darkened her eyes as he made the announcement. "This is the last chance I have of seeing you alone. Will you write to me?" "I don't think--I couldn't," she stammered nervously. "Then will you promise me that if ever you are in any trouble, no matter what, in which a friend who has your well-being at heart might perhaps be useful, you will write to me? ... You know that I am your friend?" he inquired. "I believe you are--yes." "And will you promise what I have asked?" he persisted. Pamela hesitated, and stared at him with perplexed, embarrassed gaze. "But there isn't any need," she began... "Not now; no. I pray there never will be. But you will promise?" "Yes--oh! yes," she whispered, and, to her own intense dismay, burst into sudden tears. She dashed them hastily away with her disengaged hand. "You're--frightening me," she gasped. "I don't know what you mean." "Don't cry," he said. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm not a beast. I'm not making love to you. But I just wanted you to know that everything I possess, myself included, is at your service at any time, and in any way you choose to command. Perhaps you may never require my services; but at least you know that I wish to be useful. Don't misunderstand me,--that is all I wish to convey." He released her hand and sat back. Pamela dabbed her eyes furtively, ashamed of her emotional outburst, and angry with herself beyond measure for behaving like a simpleton. "How silly I am!" she murmured. "I don't know what you must think of me. I don't know why I am crying."