"It wouldn't do," she said, her voice very low.
"You don't like me?" he questioned.
"Yes; I like you. It isn't that."
"Then--what is it, Chirpy? I believe you are afraid of me," he said half
quizzically.
"I'm not!" she declared, with vehemence. "I'm not such a donkey! No,
Knight Errant, I'm only afraid for you."
"I don't quite grasp your meaning," he said.
With an effort she explained.
"You see, you don't know me very well--not nearly so well as I know
you."
"I know you well enough to be fond of you, Chirpy," he said.
"That is just because you don't know me," she said, her voice quivering
a little. "You wouldn't like me for long, Knight Errant. Men never do."
"More fools they," said the knight errant, with somewhat unusual
emphasis. "It's their loss, anyway."
She laughed a little.
"It's very nice of you to say so, but it doesn't alter the fact.
Besides--" She paused.
"Besides--" said Rivington.
She looked at him suddenly.
"What about that nice little woman who may turn up some day?"
The humorous corner of Rivington's mouth went up.
"I think she has, Chirpy," he said. "To tell you the honest truth, I've
been thinking so for some time."
"You really want to marry me?" Ernestine looked him straight in the
eyes. "It isn't--only--a chivalrous impulse?"
He met her look quite steadily.
"No," he said quietly; "it isn't--only--that.
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