"But it really was not altogether my fault," she continued; "it really was yours in not making things plainer to me."
I felt relieved: there was evidently nothing serious the matter with my sister. It was absolutely normal for things to be my fault and not hers. Annabel was herself again.
"What things didn't I make plain?" I asked.
"You didn't make it plain to me how much your feelings were involved in this sort of affair with Fay Wildacre."
"But, my dear girl, I told you that I wanted to marry Fay, and what better proof could I have given you of the depth of my feelings for her?"
"Oh yes, you said you wanted to marry her, but I didn't understand that you cared for her as much as Arthur says you do," persisted Annabel, as if asking for a woman's hand in marriage was merely a sign of transitory admiration, such as asking for her hand in a dance. "Of course, that makes all the difference."
"All what difference?" I asked in bewilderment. "I am no orator as Blathwayte is, and therefore I cannot express my feelings as he seems able to express them; but I wish you to be under no delusion as to the state of my feelings towards Fay. To me she is and always will be the only woman I could possibly marry—the only woman with whom I could ever fall in love. I love her to the very depths of my being and always shall, and it is because I love her so much that I refuse to take my happiness at the expense of hers, and to tie her for life to a man old enough to be her father. There now, you have it. If I wasn't clear enough before, surely I am now."
"That's you all over, Reggie, always ready to sacrifice yourself to other people! I never knew anybody as absolutely unselfish as you are—except, of course, mamma."
I was astonished, and showed it. "But you agreed with me, Annabel. You said it wouldn't be fair to Fay to ask her to marry me."
It was now Annabel's turn to look surprised. "What nonsense, Reggie! I don't know what you are talking about."