"You may stay," she asserted, soberly. "Only don't touch me."
No one could ever realize how much those words hurt him. He had been
disciplined in far too severe a school ever to permit his face to index
the feelings of his heart, yet the unconcealed shrinking of this
uncouth child from slightest personal contact with him cut through his
acquired reserve as perhaps nothing else could ever have done. Not
until he had completely conquered his first unwise impulse to retort
angrily, did he venture again to speak.
"I hope to aid you in getting back beside the others, where you will be
less exposed."
"Will you take him?"
"He is dead," Hampton said, soberly, "and I can do nothing to aid him.
But there remains a chance for you to escape."
"Then I won't go," she declared, positively.
Hampton's gray eyes looked for a long moment fixedly into her darker
ones, while the two took mental stock of each other. He realized the
utter futility of any further argument, while she felt instinctively
the cool, dominating strength of the man. Neither was composed of that
poor fibre which bends.
"Very well, my young lady," he said, easily, stretching himself out
more comfortably in the rock shadow.
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