He waited until he was sure he was not mistaken, and then turned his
head unexpectedly, and smiled into her startled eyes.
"What is it?" he asked, still smiling at her. "I won't bite. Say it, why
don't you?"
She bit her lips and looked away.
"I wanted to ask something--ask you to do something," she said, after a
minute. And then hurriedly, as if she feared her courage might ebb and
leave her stranded, "I wish you'd give me that--jug!"
Sheer surprise held Ford silent, staring at her.
"I don't ask many favors--I wish you'd grant just that one. I wouldn't
ask another."
"What do you want of it?"
"Oh--" she stopped, then plunged on recklessly. "It's getting on my
nerves so! And if you gave it to me, you wouldn't have to fight the
temptation--"
"Why wouldn't I? There's plenty more where that came from," he reminded
her.
"But it wouldn't be right where you could get it any time the craving
came. Won't you let me take it?" He had never before heard that tone
from her; but he fought down the thrill of it and held himself rigidly
calm.
"Oh, I don't know--the jug's doing all right, where it is," he evaded;
what he wanted most was to get at her real object, and, man-like, to
know beyond doubt whether she really cared.
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