All for a Scrap of Paper

"It's not that at all, Nancy. I know you admire clever people. What I meant was," and he stammered painfully, "that--that it's--a matter of indifference to you whether I, personally, am dull or clever."

"What reason have you for saying that?"

"Hundreds," replied Bob. "That is--you see, you are always laughing at my desire to be 'a fusty bookworm,' as you call it, and--and, well, all that sort of thing."

"Does that prove indifference?" she replied, and Bob thought he noted a tremor in her voice.

"You know it does," he went on, hating himself for talking in such a fashion, and yet unable to control his words. "Only yesterday, when we were talking together at tea, and some one said that I should die an old bachelor, you said that I was far more likely to die an old maid. Then, although you saw you wounded me, you went off with Captain Trevanion."

"Hadn't you, just before, refused to stay the