She went on. "I wasn't going to speak last night. Only you looked so melancholy at dinner. And then I thought p'r'aps you were lonely, like I am. I didn't find out till afterwards that you didn't like the way I talked."
"Do you know you make me feel a most objectionable cad?" said Merefleet.
"Oh, no, you aren't that," she hastened to assure him. "I'm positive you aren't that. It was my fault. I spoke first. I thought you looked real sad. And I always want to hearten up sad folks. You see I've been there, and I know what it is."
"You!" said Merefleet.
Did he hear a sob in the darkness beside him? He fancied so. The hand that lay beneath his own twitched as if agitated.
"What do you know about trouble?" said Merefleet.
She did not answer him. Only he heard a long, hard sigh. Then she laughed rather mirthlessly.
"Well," she said, "there aren't many things in this world worth crying for. You've had enough of me, I guess. It's time I shunted."
She tried to withdraw her hand, but Merefleet's hold tightened.
"No, no. Not yet," he said, almost as if he were pleading with her. "I've behaved abominably. But don't punish me like this!"