be--awfully frank with you," she said rather
tremulously. You--won't mind?''

He sat motionless for a second. Then very quietly he dropped his
pipe back into his pocket and grasped her slender wrists. "Go on!"
he said.

Her face was lifted, very earnest and appealing, to his. "You
know," she said, "we are not strangers. We haven't been from the
very beginning. We started comrades, didn't we?"

"We should have been married by this time, if I hadn't put the
brake on," said Burke.

"Yes," Sylvia said. "I know. That is what makes me feel
so--intimate with you. But it is different for you. I am a total
stranger to you. You have never met me--or anyone like me--before.
Have you?"

"And I have never asked anyone to marry me before," said Burke.

The wrists he held grew suddenly rigid. "You have asked me out
of--out of pity--and the goodness of your heart?" she whispered.

"Quite wrong," said Burke. "I want a capable woman to take care of
me--when Mary Ann goes on the bust."

"Please don't make me laugh!" begged Sylvia rather shakily. "I
haven't done yet. I'm going to ask you an awful thing next.
You'll tell me the truth, won't you?"

"I'll tell you before you ask," he said. "I can be several kinds
of beast, but not the kind you are afraid of. I am not a faddist,
but I am moral. I like it best."

The curt, distinct words were too absolute to admit of any doubt.
Sylvia breathed a short, hard sigh.

"I wonder," she said, "if it would be very wrong to marry a person
you only like."

"Marriage is a risk--in any case," said Burke. "But if you're not
blindly in love, you can at least see where you are going."

"I can't," she said rather piteously.

"You're afraid of me," he said.

"No, not really--not really. It's almost as big a risk for you as
for me. You haven't bothered about--my morals, have you?" Her
faint laugh had in it a sound of tears.

The hands that held her wrists closed with a steady pressure. "I
haven't," said Burke with simplicity.

"Thank you," she said. "You've been very kind to me. Really I am
not afraid of you."

"Sure?" said Burke.

"Only I still wish I were a boy," she said. "You and I could be
just pals then."

"And why not now?" he said.

"Is it possible?" she asked.

"I should say so. Why not?"

She freed her hands suddenly and laid them upon his arms. "If I
marry you, will you treat me just as a pal?"

"I will," said Burke.

She was still tre