Not men like you."
They entered the house, lingering in the oval sitting-room through
which they had to pass.
"Fortunately," he tried to say, lightly, "it doesn't matter in this case
whether I'm sensitive to chills or not."
"Oh, but it does. I want you two to be friends."
"What for?" The question was so point-blank as to be a little scornful,
but she ignored that.
"On Colonel Ashley's side, for what he'll gain in knowing you; on
yours--for something more."
He stopped again, at the foot of the staircase in the hall. "May I
ask--just what you mean by that?"
She hesitated. "It's something that a tactful person wouldn't tell. If I
do, it's only because I want you to consider me as--your friend. I know
you haven't hitherto," she hurried on, as he flushed and tried to speak.
"I haven't deserved it. But after what's happened--and after all you've
done for us--"
"I could consider you my friend without asking Colonel Ashley to think
of me as his."
"Hardly--if I marry him; and besides--when you know him--You see," she
began again, "what I have in mind depends upon your knowing him--rather
well."
"Then, Miss Guion," he laughed, "you can drop it. I've sized him up with
a look.
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