Unconsciously he had fallen into
the soft patronizing tone in which aforetime he had shepherded a Sunday
school.
The girl looked at the large sentimental face and laughed. She felt
ashamed of her rudeness even in the act.
He caught her hands, and before she knew his face was close to hers.
"Promise me, dear," he said. "We have everything in common. Your
father will be delighted, and we will work together for the good of the
people. You are not meant to be a casual idler like the people at
Etterick. You and I are working man and woman."
It was her turn to flush in downright earnest. The man's hot face
sickened her. What were these wild words he was speaking? She dimly
caught their purport, heard the mention of Etterick, saw once again
Lewis with his quick, kindly eyes, and turned coldly to the lover.
"It is quite out of the question, Mr. Stocks," she said calmly. "Of
course I am obliged to you for the honour you have done me, but the
thing is impossible."
"Who is it?" he cried, with angry eyes. "Is it Lewis Haystoun?"
The girl looked quickly at him, and he was silent, abashed. Strangely
enough, at that moment she liked him better than ever before. She
forgave him his rudeness and folly, his tactless speech and his comical
face. He was in love with her, he offered her what he most valued, his
political chances and his code of fine sentiments; it was not his blame
if she found both little better than husks.
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