It was unkind, unfair, but it made me wonder
if, perhaps, you might not be thinking the same thing, too. Years ago
you told me I didn't think you good enough to--to be my knight. My
outburst was only childish temper that day, but did you think last
night that I still underrated you?"
Steve finally shook his head when she persisted in waiting for his
answer.
"You just have to finish now," he warned her, however. "It was your
own bargain. I'm not going to tell you one single bit of what I think
of you until it comes my turn!"
She tried to laugh at his stubbornness, but she had trouble with this
explanation, which grew more vexingly intricate and involved the
further she went.
"Then we'll say you didn't," she continued. "I told you last night,
less kindly than I might have, that I was engaged to Mr. Wickersham.
And I've just confessed, too, that I didn't know a girl could care for
any man as unutterably, as blindly and pridelessly, as Miriam cares for
the man Garry is. That is the truth. For quite a long, long time it
has been understood that I was to marry Mr. Wickersham. I have always
admired him--found him above petty things. But, Mr. O'Mara, I have
always been sure, for just as long a time, that the ability to care for
anyone the--the way I think you believed last night I might care for
you, was left out of me. And so it wasn't you who awoke my contempt,
even though I did turn it against you.
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