She lifted her lashes, startled and
curious, gazing at me for the first time. I met her glance fairly, and
the slight resentment in her eyes faded, her clasped hands moving
uneasily.
"I--I am not afraid of--of you," she returned at last doubtfully. "It
is not that, but--but really I cannot permit you to accompany me
farther."
"Only to the place where you said you lived," I urged eagerly. "I
promise not even to take note of the number, and will never bother you
any more."
Her fine eyes hardened; then sank slowly before mine.
"That--that was a lie also," she acknowledged, half defiantly. "I--I
do not live about here."
I stared at her in sudden doubt, yet remained loyal to my first
impression.
"All the greater reason then for not leaving you here alone."
She laughed, a faint tinge of bitterness in the sound.
"Surely you cannot imagine I would feel any safer in company with a
burglar?" she asked sharply. My face flushed.
"Why accuse me of that?" I asked quickly. "Merely because I was in
that yard?"
She drew back a step, one hand grasping her skirt.
"Not altogether. You were hiding there, and--and you were afraid of
the policeman."
I could not explain; it would require too long, and she would in all
probability refuse to believe the story.
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