"Not if you cannot answer them without blushes. I beg pardon."
"Are they delicate?" I urged, angrily.
"Not if they touch her friends so keenly. Again I beg pardon."
"Mrs. Dennison," I said, conquering the anger that burned in me like a fire, "excuse me if I seem rude, but if there is anything of excitement in my manner, it is because I am not used to canvassing the feelings of my friends, even with those nearest and dearest to me."
"And me you consider a stranger," she said, deprecatingly.
"Almost," I replied, with blunt truth.
"And one whom you cannot like?"
I bit my lips to keep back the words that pressed against them.
"At my age, Mrs. Dennison, new feelings spring up slowly in the heart."
She made another desperate attempt at my weak side.