"Elisabeth," I began; "I am just back. I have not had time—I have had no leave from you to come to see you—to ask you—to explain—"
"Explain?" she said evenly.
"But surely you can not believe that I—"
"I only believe what seems credible, Mr. Trist."
"But you promised—that very morning you agreed—Were you out of your mind, that—"
"I was out of my mind that morning—but not that evening."
Now she was grande demoiselle, patrician, superior. Suddenly I became conscious of the dullness of my own garb. I cast a quick glance over my figure, to see whether it had not shrunken.
"But that is not it, Elisabeth—a girl may not allow a man so much as you promised me, and then forget that promise in a day. It was a promise between us. You agreed that I should come; I did come. You had given your word. I say, was that the way to treat me, coming as I did?"
"I found it possible," said she. "But, if you please, I must go. I beg your pardon, but my Aunt Betty is waiting with the carriage."
"Why, damn Aunt Betty!" I exclaimed. "You shall not go! See, look here!"