It did not seem to occur to him to turn the speech aside. During their brief, but rapid, acquaintance they had always been extraordinarily frank with one another.
“Why did you?” she asked almost fiercely. “It wasn’t kind.”
“In that I differ from you,” he replied. “It was the only kind act I have ever performed towards you.”
A pained flush leapt to her cheeks. She looked away from him down the dusty road, along a vista of flowering gum trees, with eyes that were clouded and misty and rebellious, and a mind that for all its youthfulness dimly discerned his meaning.
“I thought we were—friends,” she said falteringly.
And then he made use of one of the remarks that were responsible for the development of her understanding.
“There is no such thing as friendship between the sexes.”
The flush in her cheeks deepened. There was a strained air of embarrassment about her, noticeable even in her walk.
“And so... you don’t wish to know me?” she said with an effort.
“My dear child!” He looked at her earnestly. “It’s not a matter in which I am entitled to consider my wishes.”