before her, and entered Mordaunt's presence at length almost at a run.
Chris at twenty was very little older than Chris at seventeen.

"I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting," was her greeting. "Really I
couldn't help it. I just couldn't get up this morning. You know how one
feels after going to bed at four. It was very nice of you to come so
early. Have you had any breakfast?"

All this was poured out while her hand lay in his, her gay young face
uplifted, half-merry, half-confiding.

Yes, Mordaunt had breakfasted. He told her so with a faint smile. "And
please don't apologize for being late," he added. "It is I who am early.
I came early on purpose. I wanted to see you alone."

"Oh?" said Chris.

She looked at him interrogatively and then quite suddenly she knew what
he had come to say, and turned white to the lips. For the first time she
was afraid of him.

"Oh, please," she gasped rather incoherently, "please--"

"Shall we sit down?" he said gently. "I am not going to do or say
anything that need frighten you. If you were a little older you would
realize that I am at your mercy, not you at mine."

She looked at him wide-eyed, imploring. "Please, Mr. Mordaunt, can't
we--can't we wait a little? I am afraid, I am so afraid of--of making a
mistake."