"I know what you mean. None of your
lady-friends would do it because they are ladies. I'm sorry. But they
are not placed as I am. Do you think I could sit with my hands before
me, or do fancy-work, while things went to ruin? My father is old and
feeble--you saw him the other night--I have no brother--no one to help
me, and--so you see how it is!"
The eyes rested on his with a proud smile, as if she were challenging
him, then she went on:
"And it does not matter. I live quite alone; I see no one, no other
lady; there is no one to be ashamed of me."
Stafford reddened.
"That's rather a hard hit for me!" he said. "Ashamed! By Heaven! if you
knew how I admired--how amazed I am at your pluck and goodness--"
Her eyes dropped before his glowing ones.
"And there is no need to pity me: I am quite happy, quite; happier than
I should be if I were playing the piano or paying visits all day. It
has quite left off now."
Half unconsciously he put his hand on her arm pleadingly, and with the
firm, masterful touch of the man.
"Will you wait one more moment?" he said, in his deep, musical voice.
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