"Only what?"

"Only--be careful," she said, with downcast eyes. And, of course, that
brought him, figuratively, to her feet. He vowed he would be careful, if
it was for her sake. If she would only say that it was for her sake. And
at the moment he really meant it. He was as honest as the day. But
he did not know, perhaps, that the best sort of men are those who
persistently and repeatedly break their word in one respect. For they
will vow to a woman never to run into danger, to be careful, to be
cowards. And when the danger is there, and the woman is not--their vow
is writ in water.

Netty tried to stop him. She was very much distressed. She almost had
tears in her eyes, but not quite. She put her gloved hands over her ears
to stop them, but did not quite succeed in shutting out his voice. The
gloves were backed with a dark, fine fur, which made her cheeks look
delicate and soft as a peach.

"I will not hear you," she said. "I will not. I will not."

Then he seemed to recollect something, and he stopped short.

"No," he said; "you are quite right. I have no business to ask you to
hear me. I have nothing to offer you. I am poor. At any moment I may be
an outlaw. But at any moment I may have more to offer you. Things may go
well, and then I should be in a very different position."

Netty looked away from him, and seemed to be trying to think. Or,
perhaps, she was only putting together recollections which had all been
thought out before. She could be a princess. She remembered that. She
had only been in Europe six months, and here was a prince at her feet.
But there were terrible drawbacks. Warsaw was one of them, and poverty,
that greatest of all drawbacks, was the other.

"I can tell you nothing now," he said. "But soon, before the summer,
there may be great changes in Poland."

Then his own natural instinct told him that position, or poverty, wealth
or success, had nothing to do with the cause he was pleading. He did not
even know whether Netty was rich or poor, and he certainly did not care.

"What did you mean," he asked, "when you said 'Be careful'? What did you
mean--tell me?"

His gay, blue eyes were serious enough now. They were alight with an
honest and good love. Never of a cold and calculating habit, he was
reckless of observation. He did not care who saw. He would have taken
her hands and forced her to face him had she not held them behind her
back. She was singularly calm and self-possessed. Peop