"He can't help not liking me," persisted Basil. "We're not to blame for our likes and dislikes."
"No. But we are to blame for giving way to them." She was arranging freshly cut flowers in vases and jars in the sitting room.
"Yes, for giving way to them," said Basil thoughtfully, after a long time.
"To what?" asked Courtney, who had forgotten.
"Our feelings."
"Oh, I remember."
"You're right about that." Basil was speaking with an effort. "For example, if a man were to—to fall in love with a married woman, he'd be a—miserable cur if he told her. Those last few words came explosively.
"Gracious!" Courtney beamed mischievously at him from behind a gorgeous spread of half blown roses. "You are fierce! Well, that's settled. If he heard you, he'd never dare tell her."
She saw his face, and it flashed over her that it was a married woman he loved. Yes, of course! Why had she not guessed it at once! And he was saying these harsh things to make it impossible for himself to yield to the impulse. The smile left her eyes. He was at the window with his back to her. She looked tender sympathy. "Poor boy!" she thought. "And I saw to-day how happy he could be, and how happy he could make a woman.... Perhaps she does love him. What a sorrow that would be! And utterly hopeless!"
He turned abruptly. "Will you be my friend?"