But if it were no more than that--' 'Explain, then.' Passion was overmastering him as he watched the fine scorn in her eyes.
He raised her hand to his lips.
'No!' Rhoda exclaimed with sudden wrath.

'Your respect--oh, I appreciate your respect!' She wrenched herself from his grasp, and went apart.

Barfoot rose, gazing at her with admiration.
'It is better I should be at a distance from you,' he said.

'I want to know your mind, and not to be made insensate.' 'Wouldn't it be better still if you left me ?' Rhoda suggested, mistress of herself again.
'If you really wish it.' He remembered the circumstances and spoke submissively.

'Yet the fog gives me such a good excuse for begging your indulgence.