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 house. Lydia stopped. “You needn’t go any farther,” she said coldly.

Angus halted; then he fixed his eyes on her and for the first time in his life he spoke in an important moment without carefully reflecting on what he said.

“You mustn’t go alone,” he said. “You mustn’t… I don’t want you to.”

Lydia gasped, looked at Angus in astonishment that was not simulated. The red mounted to her cheeks as it was wont to do before an outburst.

“You—you don’t want me to! You!”

Angus was frightened by his own words momentarily, but that feeling passed. He found himself calm, almost serene; he felt his will to be superior to Lydia’s, and it was borne in upon him that he had a duty to perform. This very frequently happens to serious-minded young folks.

“I don’t want you to go,” he repeated slowly, “and you mustn’t go. I—It wouldn’t be right. You won’t go.”

“I won’t go!”

“No…. Look at me now, Lydia. You’re unreasonable. You’re angry. If you go—you’ll be sorry for it—because—because you’re not the sort of girl who—does that kind of a thing…. What would people think?”