He gazed eagerly into her face, still duskily visible to his scrutiny.  “I won’t,” he answered, “if you’ll tell me you care for me.  Oh, don’t you?—­don’t you?—­not one bit?  Just give me a show of a chance and I’ll make you care.  I’ve got to make you care.  Why, I’ve thought of nothing but you for months—­dreamed of you, sleeping and waking.  I can’t stop; it’s too late.  Don’t ask me to stop—­Anne—­dear!”

No woman in her senses could have doubted the sincerity of this young man.  That he was no adept at love making was apparent in the way he stumbled over his phrases; in the way his voice caught in his throat; in the way it grew husky toward the last of this impassioned pleading of his.

He still held her hand close.  “Tell me you care—­a little,” he begged of her silence.

“No girl can be alone as I am now and not be touched by such words,” she said very gently after a moment’s hesitation.  “But—­promising to marry you is a different matter.  I can’t let you rashly offer me so much when I know what it would mean to you to bring home a—­book agent to your mother!”

He uttered a low exclamation.  “My life is my own, to do with as I please.  If I’m satisfied, that’s enough.  You are what I want—­all I want.  As for my mother—­when she knows you—­But we’ll not talk of that just yet.  What I must know is—­do you—­can you—­care for me—­enough to marry me?” His hand tightened on hers, his voice whispered in her ear:  “Anne, darling—­can’t you love me?  I want you so—­oh—­I want you so!  Let me kiss you—­just once, dear.  That will tell you—­”

But she drew her hand gently but efficiently away; she spoke firmly, though very low:  “No—­no!  Listen—­Jordan King.  Sometime—­by next spring perhaps, I shall be in the place I call home.  When that time comes I will let you know.  If you still care to, you may come and see me there.  Now—­won’t you drive on, please?”

“Yes, if you’ll let me—­just once—­once to live on all those months!  Anne—­”

But, when he would have made action and follow close upon the heels of pleading he found himself gently but firmly prevented by an uplifted small hand which did not quite touch his nearing face.  “Ah, don’t spoil that chivalry of yours,” said her mellow, low voice.  “Let me go on thinking you are what I have believed you are all along.  Be patient, and prove whether this is real, instead of snatching at what might dull your judgment!”

“It wouldn’t dull it—­only confirm it.  And—­I want to make you remember me.”

“You have provided that already,” she admitted, at which he gave an ejaculation as of relief—­and of longing—­and possibly of recognition of her handling of the whole—­from her point of view—­rather difficult situation.  At the back of his mind, in spite of his disappointment at being kept at arm’s length when he wanted something much more definite, was the recognition that here was precisely the show of spirit and dignity which his judgment approved and admired.