“Yes; I went into her sitting room and found her as I say; and she was sobbing; and I got from her the story of it.”
“She told you that?”
“Yes; and she feared to send it back, lest you should come and overbear her resistance. I supposed you had frightened her. But neither would she keep it—”
“You bade her not,” he put in, in a quick low tone.
“If you like, I prayed her not. Did it need much cleverness to see what was meant by keeping it?”
His mouth twitched. I saw the tempest rising again in him. But for a little longer he held it down.
“Do you take me for a fool?” he asked.
“Am I a boy—do I know nothing of women? And do I know nothing of men?”
And he ended in a miserable laugh, and then fell again to tugging his mustache with his shaking hand.
“You know,” said I, “what’s bad in both; and no doubt that’s a good deal.”