“That must be it,” he agreed.  Then he leaned forward eagerly.  “But I’m looking at you now, and I like looking at you.  I like what you’ve done for me.”

“Oh, that was nothing, Mr. Haines,” she exclaimed airily, her intuition telling her of her sway over the man.

“Nothing!” he exclaimed.  “Well, it’s more than any one ever did for me before.  I’ve known lots of girls—­”

“I don’t doubt that, Mr. Haines,” Hope interjected, with a light laugh.

“Yes, I say I’ve known lots of girls, but there’s never been one who showed herself such a true friend as you have been.  There’s never been any one who believed in me this way when I was practically down and out.”

“Perhaps you’ve never been down and out before, Mr. Haines, so they never had a chance to show whether they believed in you or not.”

“That may be one reason,” he answered.  “I wonder why”—­he paused—­“I wonder why your sister Carolina did not believe in me.”

“You were quite fond of her, weren’t you?” the girl began, then stopped and turned away her head.

Haines gazed curiously at Hope.

“I was, yes.  I even thought I loved her, but I soon saw my mistake.  It wasn’t love.  It was only a kind of—­”

Suddenly pausing, Bud Haines shot a swift glance at the girl.

“What wonderful hair you have, Miss Hope.”

The girl smiled invitingly.

“Think so?”

“Yes,” he declared earnestly.  “I know so.  I never noticed it before, but I guess lots of fellows down in Mississippi have.”

Hope’s tantalizing smile worried him.  “I hope you are not secretly engaged too!” he exclaimed.

“No, oh, no!” she answered quickly, before she thought.

“Or in love?” he asked seriously.

Haines had stood up and was now leaning intently over the table.  He realized the difference between the feeling he had had for Carolina and the tender emotion that thrilled him as he thought of the sweet girl before him.  This time he knew he was not mistaken.  He knew that he truly loved Hope Langdon.

“Or in love?” he asked again, anxious at her silence.

Hope looked at him slowly.  A faint blush illumined her face.

“Oh, don’t let’s talk about me,” she exclaimed.

“But I want to talk about you,” he cried.  “I don’t want to talk about anything else.  I must talk about you, and I’m going to talk whether you want to hear or not.  You’ve believed in me when nobody else believed.  You’ve fought for me when everybody else was fighting against me.  You’ve shown that you think I am honest and worthy of a woman’s faith.  You fought your own family for me.  Nobody has ever done for me what you have, and—­and—­”

He faltered, full of what he was about to say.

“And you’re grateful,” she ended.

He looked her squarely in the eyes as though to fathom her thoughts.  Then he reached toward the girl and seized both her hands.