"What is there to say? I have told you all there is to tell. I loved her very much. I did what I could to make her happy, and I try to make up for it to Daisy. But there is nothing more to say."
She was angry that he would not defend himself. She was ready—ah, so ready!—to listen to his pleading. But he would not say a word for himself. Instead, he went on,
"She didn't want to come, but I made her. She repented, poor girl, all her life; she was never quite happy. It was all my doing. Still, I think she was happier with me, in spite of it."
A movement of impatience escaped from Alicia. Seeing it he added,
"I beg your pardon. I didn't want you to think hardly of her."
"I don't want to think of her at all. Was she—was she like Daisy?"
"Yes; but prettier."
"I don't know what you expect me to say," she exclaimed. "I know—I suppose some men don't think much of—of a thing like that. To me it is horrible. You simply followed your— Ah, I can't speak of it!" and she seemed to put him from her with a gesture of disgust.
He walked beside her in silence, his face set in the bitter smile it always wore when fate dealt hardly with him.