"I didn't want to be left alone with him," the girl said presently in a
low voice. "I'm always afraid he's going to say or do something--" She
hesitated a moment, looking quickly over her shoulder towards the ridge
where he had just disappeared--"something that might lead to
unpleasantness."
She stopped abruptly.
"_You_ frightened, Joan!" I exclaimed, with genuine surprise. "This is a
new light on your wicked character. I thought the human being who could
frighten you did not exist." Then I suddenly realised she was talking
seriously--looking to me for help of some kind--and at once I dropped
the teasing attitude.
"He's very far gone, I think, Joan," I added gravely. "You must be kind
to him, whatever else you may feel. He's exceedingly fond of you."
"I know, but I can't help it," she whispered, lest her voice should
carry in the stillness; "there's something about him that--that makes me
feel creepy and half afraid."
"But, poor man, it's not his fault if he is delicate and sometimes looks
like death," I laughed gently, by way of defending what I felt to be a
very innocent member of my sex.
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