"Don't be so sure! It is never very little to your race." She leaned back, studying him through half-dropped lids.
"Well, try me," he protested.
She did not immediately respond; and when she spoke, her first words were explanatory rather than interrogative.
"I want to begin by saying that I believe I once did you an injustice, to the extent of misunderstanding your motive for a certain action."
Durham's uneasy flush confessed his recognition of her meaning. "Ah, if we must go back to that—"
"You withdraw your assent to my request?"
"By no means; but nothing consolatory you can find to say on that point can really make any difference."
"Will not the difference in my view of you perhaps make a difference in your own?"
She looked at him earnestly, without a trace of irony in her eyes or on her lips. "It is really I who have an amende to make, as I now understand the situation. I once turned to you for help in a painful extremity, and I have only now learned to understand your reasons for refusing to help me."
"Oh, my reasons—" groaned Durham.