'You don't seem pleased, Chris,' she said, following me out of the room.
'I don't know what my feelings are,' I replied; from any other hands than his, the work that I have received to-day would have delighted me beyond measure. But I had better not speak; it will be best for me to hold my tongue.'
'Why?'
'Because I seem never to dare to say what I think; and I don't like to play the hypocrite.'
'You don't say what you think,' Jessie said, 'because you are conscious that your thoughts are unjust.'
'Perhaps it is so; but I can't make myself believe that they are.'
'You haven't a good opinion of Mr. Glover.'
'I am not grateful for his patronage; I don't mind saying that.'
It would have been more truthful in me to have said that the instinctive aversion with which he had at first inspired me was fast changing to a feeling of hatred. I hated him for his smooth manner, and hated him the more for it because it was impossible to find fault with it; I hated him for his civility to me, and hated him the more because he refused to notice that my manner towards him, if not the words I used, plainly showed that I did not desire his friendship or patronage. But I could have multiplied my reasons, which might have all been summed up in one cause of dislike--his attentions to Jessie.
'Don't come to the Wests' for me to-night, Chris,' Jessie said, after a little quiet pondering.