"I think that perhaps she is."
"I knew you would say so. You are so honest that you could not bring yourself to tell a fib,—even to me about that. Come here and sit down for a moment." Of course he sat down by her. "You know that Frank came to see me at Grex?"
"He never mentioned it."
"Dear me;—how odd!"
"It was odd," said he in a voice which showed that he was angry. She could hardly explain to herself why she told him this at the present moment. It came partly from jealousy, as though she had said to herself, "Though he may neglect me, he shall know that there is someone who does not;"—and partly from an eager half-angry feeling that she would have nothing concealed. There were moments with her in which she thought that she could arrange her future life in accordance with certain wise rules over which her heart should have no influence. There were others, many others, in which her feelings completely got the better of her. And now she told herself that she would be afraid of nothing. There should be no deceit, no lies!
"He went to see you at Grex!" said Silverbridge.
"Why should he not have come to me at Grex?"
"Only it is so odd that he did not mention it. It seems to me that he is always having secrets with you of some kind."
"Poor Frank! There is no one else who would come to see me at that tumbledown old place. But I have another thing to say to you. You have behaved badly to me."
"Have I?"