"Of course, I can't expect that you should love me all at once," he continued; "no; that's too much to hope. But if you only like me a little now, and if you will only let me love you, I shall be satisfied." And he leaned forward and took her hand. "I do like you, Mr. Stone," she forced herself to answer. She thrilled a little at his fervor, doubtful as she was as to the reason for his wooing. And as his eyes were fixed on her she thought that she had never before done justice to his looks. He was a strong figure of a man. His mouth was masterful; but the woman who yielded herself to him was likely to have a satisfactory defender. "Well," he asked, when she said nothing, "is it to be yes or no?" And his voice trembled. "Will you be satisfied if I do not say 'no'--even if I do not say 'yes,' all at once?" she returned. "I shall have to be, I suppose," he answered, and there was a ring of triumph in his voice. "But I shall never let go of you till I get you to say 'yes.'" And he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. She made no resistance; she would have made none had he clasped her in his arms; she was even a little surprised that he did not. She was irritatingly conscious that his warmth was not displeasing to her--that she seemed not to resent his making love to her although she suspected him of a base motive. For a moment or more nothing was said. He still held her hand firmly clasped in his. At last he spoke: "You have granted me so much that I have no right to ask for more. But I have not a great deal of time now to persuade you to marry me. Some day this summer I expect to be ordered to sea again--some day in July or August; and I want to have you for my wife before I go." "Oh, Mr. Stone," she cried, "that is very soon!" "Can't you call me John?" he asked, following up his advantage. "Can't I call you Evelyn?" She smiled, and did not deny him, and he kissed her hand again. He kept hold of it now as though he felt sure of it. She acknowledged to herself that he was making progress. They talked for a while about his term of sea service. He thought that he might be assigned to the Mediterranean squadron, and, if he were, she could come to Europe to him and spend the next winter at Villefranche. Then they discussed travel in France and in Italy, and the places they had visited. With her delicate feminine perceptions she soon discovered that there was something he wished to say but did not know how to lead up to. Curious to learn what this might be, she let the conversation drop, so that he could make a fresh start in his blunt fashion. Finally he came to the point. "Evelyn," he began, abruptly, "do you know the Pixleys in San Francisco--Tom Pixley, I mean?" "I think I have met him," she answered, wondering what this might lead to. "He is an old friend of mine," Stone continued. "He was here a fortnight ago, and I had a long talk with him. He knows all about those Grass Valley mines."