“I have not spoken ungratefully,” protested Alice, almost in tears. “I feel sure that you are never tired of speaking ill of me to them at home.”
“That shows how little you understand my real character. I always make excuses for you.”
“Excuses for what? What have I done? What do you mean?”
“Oh, I don’t mean anything, if you don’t. I thought from your beginning to defend yourself that you felt yourself to be in the wrong.”
“I did not defend myself; and I won’t have you say so, Wallace.”
“Always your obedient, humble servant,” he replied, with complacent irony.
She pretended not to hear him, and whipped up her horse to a smart trot. The white steed being no trotter, Parker followed at a lumbering canter. Alice, possessed by a shamefaced fear that he was making her ridiculous, soon checked her speed; and the white horse subsided to a walk, marking its paces by deliberate bobs of its unfashionably long mane and tail.
“I have something to tell you,” said Parker at last.
Alice did not deign to reply.
“I think it better to let you know at once,” he continued. “The fact is, I intend to marry Janet.”