"Yes, they have. She has said so. She said that I was a bad girl. She told me so, up to my face."
"She was very wrong if she said so."
"She did then, and I couldn't bear it."
"I have not said so, and I don't think so. Indeed in all this matter I believe that I have been more to blame than you."
"No;—I know I was wrong. I know I shouldn't have gone to see him."
"I won't even say as much as that, Mary. What you should have done;—only the task would have been too hard for any young girl—was to have told me openly that you—liked this young gentleman."
"But I don't want ever to see him again."
"Look here, Mary," he said. But now he had dropped her hand and taken a chair opposite to her. He had begun to find that the task which he had proposed to himself was not so easy even for him. "Look here, Mary. I take it that you do like this young gentleman. Don't answer me till I have finished what I am going to say. I suppose you do like him,—and if so it would be very wicked in you to marry me."
"Oh, Mr. Graham—"
"Wait a moment, Mary. But there is nothing wicked in your liking him." It may be presumed that Mr. Graham would hold such an opinion as this, seeing that he had allowed himself the same latitude of liking. "It was perhaps only natural that you should learn to do so. You have been taught to regard me rather as a master than as a lover."