"I never for an instant believed what she said," he replied abjectly. Then after a warning look from me, he added—"Really believed it, I mean."
"And what was it that you didn't really believe?" I demanded.
He looked at me boldly. "Nadeshda and one or two others told me that you and your friends had arranged it for me to marry you. But, of course, I knew it wasn't so."
"But it was so," I replied. "You were one of the considerations that determined my friends in trying to get me my place."
"Well—and why didn't you take me when I finally fell into the trap?"
I let him see I was laughing at him.
He scowled—his cowlick did look so funny that I longed to pull it. "Simply couldn't stand me—not even for the sake of what I brought," he said. And then he gave me a straight, searching look. "I wonder why I don't hate you," he went on. "I wonder why I am such an ass as to care for you. Yes—even if I knew you didn't care for me, still I'd want you. Can a man make a more degrading confession than that?"
"But why?" said I, very careful not to let him see how eagerly I longed to hear him say the words again. "Why should you want—me?"
He gave a very unpleasant laugh. "If you think I'm going to sit here and exhibit my feelings for your amusement you're going to be disappointed. It's none of your business why. Certainly not because I find anything sweet or amiable or even kind in you."
"That's rude," said I.