Rosina felt that this sentence called for study before reply, and so walked on without speaking.
“Is that not so?” he asked, as they went down by the little stone stair.
“I never change.”
“Oh, now you know well that you do not speak the truth,—you are so very changeable. This afternoon, par exemple, when I first come to ask you to go out, you say you cannot of any possibility make it, and then, very suddenly, we go.”
“But I recollected that I might wear this skirt.”
“And there was that lady, also,” he said thoughtfully.
“Yes, she was there, too.”
“But always you did change.”
“I don’t call it being changeable when one has a good reason for so doing.”
He stopped short; and she, after going a few steps further, discovered herself to be unaccompanied and stopped also.