"
Her face flushed.
"Do not," she said in a low voice.
"I won't, of course," he responded, quickly. "It would only make
matters worse; your father would naturally dislike me, refuse to see
me; but--well, it's very hard on me."
She looked at him again, gravely, thoughtfully, as if she were still
puzzled by his persistence. Her eyes wandered to the dogs. Bess was
still standing up against him, and Donald had thrown himself down
beside him, and was regarding Ida with an air that said, quite plainly,
"This new friend of yours is all right."
"You have made friends with the dogs," she said, with a slight smile.
Stafford laughed.
"Oh, yes. There must be some good in dumb animals, for most of 'em take
to me at first sight."
She laughed at this not very brilliant display of wit. "I assure you
they wouldn't cut me next time we met. You can't be less charitable
than the dogs, Miss Heron!"
She gave a slight shrug to her straight, square shoulders. The gesture
seemed charming to Stafford, in its girlish Frenchiness.
"Ah, well," she said, with a pretty air of resignation, as if she were
tired of arguing.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98