She was silent; the quiet question seemed to probe her through and
through. There was no evading it.
Scott was still watching her very closely, very intently. He spoke at
length, just as she was beginning to feel his scrutiny to be more than
she could bear.
"If you are just shy with him--as I think you are--I think you ought to
try and get over it, as much for his sake as for your own. You don't want
to hurt him, do you? You wouldn't like him to be disappointed?"
Dinah shook her head. "If you could come too!" she suggested, in a very
small voice.
"No, I can't," said Scott firmly.
She sent him a darting glance. "Are you angry with me?" she said.
"I!" said Scott in amazement.
"You--spoke as if you were," she said. "And you looked--quite grim."
He laughed a little. "If you are afraid of me, you must indeed be easily
frightened. No, of course I am not angry. Dinah! Dinah! Don't be silly!"
Her lips were quivering, but in response to his admonishing tone she
forced them to smile. "I know I am silly," she said, with an effort.
"I--I'm not nearly good enough for Eustace. And I'm a dreadful little
coward, I know. But he does frighten me. When he kisses me--I always
want to run away."
"But you wouldn't like it if he didn't," said Scott, in the voice of the
philosopher.
"Shouldn't I?" said Dinah. "I wonder. It--wouldn't be him, would it?"
"And what are you going to do when you are married?" said Scott, point
blank.
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