"You seem surprised." He was still smiling.
"But you can't—you can't be in earnest, Mr. Estey."
"Why not, pray?"
"Why, you know—you must remember—what I—I told you, six years ago." The red suffused her face.
"You mean—that you cared for some one else?" He spoke gravely now. The smile was quite gone from his eyes. "But, Mrs. Darling, it's just there that I can't believe you're in earnest. Besides, that was six years ago."
"But I am in earnest, and it's the same—now," she urged feverishly. "Oh, Mr. Estey, please, please, don't let's spoil our friendship—this way. I thought you understood—I supposed, of course, you understood that I—I loved some one else very much."
"But, Mrs. Darling, you said that six years ago, and—and you're still free now. Naturally no man would be such a fool as to let— So I thought, of course, that you had—had—" He came to a helpless pause.
The color swept her face again.
"But I told you then that I was—was learning—was trying to learn— Oh, why do you make me say it?"
He glanced at her face, then jerked himself to his feet angrily.