“About Agatha Wylie.”
“Oh, pardon me, Hetty; I certainly did not begin to quarrel about her. I am very fond of her—more so, it appears, than she is of me. One moment, Hetty, before you recommence your reproaches. Why do you dislike my saying pretty things to Agatha?”
Henrietta hesitated, and said: “Because you have no right to. It shows how little you care for me.”
“It has nothing to do with you. It only shows how much I care for her.”
“I will not stay here to be insulted,” said Hetty, her distress returning. “I will go home.”
“Not to-night; there is no train.”
“I will walk.”
“It is too far.”
“I don’t care. I will not stay here, though I die of cold by the roadside.”
“My cherished one, I have been annoying you purposely because you show by your anger that you have not ceased to care for me. I am in the wrong, as I usually am, and it is all my fault. Agatha knows nothing about our marriage.”