Phillida looked down. At this moment her reserve with her lover in a matter so personal to herself seemed to her extremely reprehensible.
"I—I was a coward, Charley," she said with a kind of ferocity of remorse. This self-accusation on her part made him unhappy.
"You?" he said. "You are no coward. You are a brave woman." He leaned over and lightly kissed her cheek as he finished speaking.
"I knew that my course would seem foolish to you, and I couldn't bear that you should know. I was afraid it would mortify you."
"You have suffered much yourself, my dear."
She nodded her head, the tears brimming in her eyes at this unexpected sign of sympathy.
"And borne it bravely all alone. And all for a mistake—a cruel mistake."
Millard had not meant to say so much, but his feelings had slipped away from him. However, he softened his words by his action, for he drew out his handkerchief and gently wiped away a tear that had paused a moment in its descent down her cheek.
"How can you say it is a mistake?" she asked. "You saw Wilhelmina yourself."
"Yes; but it is all a misunderstanding, dear. It's all wrong, I tell you. You haven't seen much of life, and you'll be better able to judge when you are older." Here he paused, for of arguments he had none to offer.