isn't the question. It's you. If you don't care for him, and if you'll only give me a chance—half a chance to let me make you care for me—" He caught her hand, and tried to draw her to him.
"No, no, Jimmy, I mustn't! I can't!" With both her little palms she pushed him from her.
"Pollyanna, you don't mean you do care for him?" Jimmy's face whitened.
"No; no, indeed—not that way," faltered Pollyanna. "But—don't you see?—if he cares for me, I'll have to—to learn to, someway."
"Pollyanna!"
"Don't! Don't look at me like that, Jimmy!"
"You mean you'd marry him, Pollyanna?"
"Oh, no!—I mean—why—er—y-yes, I suppose so," she admitted faintly.
"Pollyanna, you wouldn't! You couldn't! Pollyanna, you—you're breaking my heart."
Pollyanna gave a low sob. Her face was in her hands again. For a moment she sobbed on, chokingly; then, with a tragic gesture, she lifted her head and looked straight into Jimmy's anguished, reproachful eyes.
"I know it, I know it," she chattered frenziedly. "I'm breaking mine, too. But I'll have to do it. I'd break your heart, I'd break mine—but I'd never break his!"
Jimmy raised his head. His eyes flashed a sudden fire. His whole appearance underwent a swift and marvelous change. With a tender, triumphant cry he swept Pollyanna into his arms and held her close.
