"You are to be afraid of nothing," she interrupted, mockingly. "Is that not just what I have been preaching to you? You have too many fears for your height, my friend." "We will put it another way, then. I was thinking of Miss Lalonde. She is not strong, and I think it is time we were leaving. If you could send us so far as the railway station--" "There are no trains that leave here," she asserted; "at least, I never heard of them. I shall go and talk to her myself. We shall see. No, on second thoughts, she is too interested. You and I will walk to the house together. That is one thing," she continued, "which I envy my brother, which makes me admire him so much. I think he is the most charmingly sympathetic person I ever met. Illness of any sort, or sickness, seems to make a woman of him. I never knew a child or a woman whose interest or sympathy he could not win quickly." "It is a wonderful thing to say of any man, that," Arnold remarked. "Wonderful?" she repeated. "Why, yes! So far as regards children, at any rate. You know they say--one of the writers in my mother's country said--that men are attracted by beauty, children by goodness; and women by evil. It is of some such saying that you are thinking. Now I shall leave these flowers in the hall and ring the bell. Tell me, would you like me to show you my books?" She laid her fingers upon the white door of her little drawing-room and looked at him. "If you do not mind," he replied, "I should like to hear what Ruth says about going." This time she frowned. She stood looking at him for a moment. Arnold's face was very square and determined, but there were still things there which she appreciated. "You are very formal, to-day," she declared. "You give too many of your thoughts to your little friend. I do not think that you are treating me kindly. I should like to sit with you in my room and to talk to you of my books. Look, is it not pretty?" She threw open the door. It was a tiny little apartment, in which all the appointments and the walls were white, except for here and there a little French gilded furniture of the best period. A great bowl of scarlet geraniums stood in one corner. Though the windows were open, the blinds were closely drawn, so that it was almost like twilight. "You won't come for five minutes?" she begged. "Yes!" he answered, almost savagely. "Come in and shut the door. I want to talk to you--not about your books. Yes, let us sit down--where you will. That couch is big enough for both of us." The sudden change in his manner was puzzling. The two had changed places. The struggle was at an end, but it was scarcely as a victim that Arnold leaned towards her. "Give me your hands," he said. "Arnold!" she whispered. He took them both and drew her towards him.