"That's a great tribute--from a brother," admitted Georgiana, smiling to herself. "But as far as our lodger is concerned, you need have no fear of any but the most businesslike relations, even though I worked beside him--as is quite improbable--for a year. He's not that sort."
"Not what sort? Don't you fool yourself. He's human, if his mind is bent on writing a book. And you are--Georgiana!"
"Jimps, there's a path in your brain that's getting worn too deep to-night. Come--let's hurry home. Jeannette will wonder what's become of me."
"Let her wonder. George, are you going to do this thing?"
"Why, Jimps--really, do you think you have any right----"
"No, Jimps, you don't. Not so much as all that. You have a brotherly affection----"
"Brotherly affection doesn't hurt; this does," was Stuart's declaration.
"No, it doesn't, my dear boy. You're just made with a queer sort of jealous element in your composition, and when something happens to call it out you think it's--something quite different," explained Georgiana rather lamely. "You know perfectly that you and I fit best as good friends; we should be awfully unhappy tied up together in any way. Why, we settled that long ago, as I reminded you just now."
"It seems to have come unsettled," Stuart muttered.
"Then we must settle it again. Truly--you mean everything to me as a brother, friend, chum--whichever you like, and I--well, I should feel pretty badly to lose you. But----"
"I wish you'd leave it there. I don't fancy what you're going on to say."
"Then I'll not say it. Come, Jimps, give me your hand on the old compact."
"I will--on exactly one condition." Stuart stood still and faced her in a certain secluded spot just where the snowy path was on the point of turning into a wider, well-used thoroughfare.
"It is fair--the fairest between a man and a woman. It's this: leave the 'never-never' clause out. I'll agree to any terms of friendship you insist on if--well, just leave me a chance, will you--dear?"
There was a brief silence while Georgiana considered. She had not expected this, certainly not just now, when her long-time friend frankly admitted the drawing power of the winsome visitor. As she had implied, there had been between them, in the days of dawning maturity while they were yet in school together, certain youthfully tender vows which they had later exchanged for the more carefully considered terms of the warm but less sentimental friendship which had now existed for some years. That Stuart was really dearer to her, more a necessary part of her life than she had realized, had been made disconcertingly clear to her by the totally unexpected pangs she had suffered during the last fortnight, when it had seemed to her that she was likely to lose the fine fervor of his devotion. Now, however, that she was assured of his intense loyalty, she was the old Georgiana again, ready to stand beside her friend to the last ditch, if need be, but wholly unwilling to bind herself to his chariot wheels while no ditches threatened.