But I held my tongue.
"Kitty, I do assure you I couldn't help it," says he. "I didn't mean to take you in."
"When you said it was lent—and then to have sold it!" says I slowly.
"Lent! Sold it!" says he, looking uncomfortable, and then he gave a sort of laugh. "Oh, I see—you mean that wretched watch," says he.
And I just said "Yes."
"But I thought you meant something else," says he. "Mary has told you—"
"Mary has told me nothing at all," I said.
And I turned and walked away once more. He didn't follow me this time. I saw he was all taken aback like, to find I thought so much of his dishonesty.
The train was waiting, and I got into a third-class carriage. I felt so glad that talk was over, and so glad I hadn't said more. Mother would be pleased, I thought—some day when I could tell her. It wouldn't do to speak Walter Russell's name in her hearing yet awhile.
I had to sit a good while in the carriage, waiting; but Walter didn't come near me again. Presently I caught sight of him sauntering along the platform; and then a smart sort of girl joined him. He put his arm through hers, and she laughed and joked in a shrill voice. I didn't like her look.