Give All to Love by Patricia Veryan

I am to abandon my friendship with a most charming—”
    He fairly sprang to grip her wrist and jerk her close to him. “Do you think I say such things lightly? Pay heed to me, little elf. If I catch him trying to fix his interest with you—”
    â€œFix … his interest? But—but you have said I am too young to be thinking of such things.”
    He released her, took up his quill pen, and stared down at it. “I—er, had supposed you to be—so. But, I have come to think I was—mistaken.”
    Unutterably shocked, she studied his averted profile. “Do you say—my arguments have at last won you over, dear sir?”
    For possibly the first time in his life, Devenish began to tidy his desk. “That,” he mumbled, “and—and other things.”
    Instinctively, her hand went to her bosom.
    â€œNo, no!” he said. Then, scarlet, added, “Well—I meant, what others said of it—I mean—of your probable age.”
    â€œI see. Then—you think I am of an age to—to receive offers?” She waited for a denial, but none came. Her heart sinking, she went on, “In which case you should perhaps give me a list of—of acceptable gentlemen, so that I may not—disgrace you further.”
    The paper he held was crushed convulsively. “For Lord’s sake! As if you have done so!”
    â€œBut—you just said…”
    â€œOh. Fontaine. Yes—well, his pretensions you must certainly depress.” His jaw set. “Or I will! As for the rest—”
    She returned to stand very closely before him and prompt meekly, “Yes, Papa?”
    Reluctantly, he looked down into her upturned, trusting little face. His own softened. He said, “You roast me, you vixen. You know very well.”
    â€œI am confused,” she said with a sigh. “To have been sixteen this morning, and one and twenty this afternoon is—unsettling. As always, I need your guidance dearest—ancient.”
    He wrenched away again and said disjointedly, “How may I know who you will—like. There are many fine young fellas your own age. That nice Van Lindsay boy; or Freddie Hilby. Or—what about young Drummond? Or—Lyon? Now, there’s a—”
    Josie had retreated to the window during this summation, and now interrupted, “So you have heard of John’s attentions to me.”
    A pause. Then he said coolly, “No. He—likes you, does he?”
    â€œHe says he does. And I like him. Very much.”
    â€œOh.” He leaned back against the desk, watching his ward’s slender but shapely figure outlined against the window. Josie and John Drummond … “Well then,” he said heartily, “that should do very nicely, I’d think.”
    She whirled and flew to stand before him, crouching a little, her eyes blazing.
    Startled, he drew back.
    â€œHorrid! Evil man!” she hissed.
    â€œN-Now—Josie—you have plagued me to—to admit you are older. And you said you liked the boy, and—”
    â€œAnd of a sudden you can scarce wait to push me to the altar, can you! You cannot wait to be rid of your—your encumbrance!”
    â€œEncumbrance, is it!” But her lip trembled; he saw the glitter of tears and, groaning, pulled her into his arms and, stroking her hair, murmured, “My little elf—how can you even think such stuff?”
    â€œB-because,” she sobbed, “I know what—what a trial I’ve been to you.”
    â€œNever!” He put her from him, smiling into her tear-wet eyes. “You were never naughty, or sulked, or went into tantrums. Or very seldom. How I shall go on without…” He frowned, and stopped, wondering why he was saying such things when he had determined to behave quite differently.
    â€œI am so glad, Dev,” she said, hugging him tight. “Then we may go on comfortably. Just as we