“No, I want to walk,” answered Clare.
She turned from him, and began to walk on in silence. For some time neither spoke. Johnstone was puzzled, surprised, and a little hurt, but he attributed what she had said to his own roughness in telling her that he liked her, though he could not see that he had done anything so very terrible. He had spoken spontaneously, too, without the least thought of producing an impression, or of beginning to make love to her. Perhaps he owed her an apology. If she thought so, he did, and it could do no harm to try.
“I’m very sorry, if I have offended you just now,” he said gently. “I didn’t mean to.”
“You didn’t offend me,” answered Clare. “It isn’t rude to say that one likes a person. ”
“Oh—I beg your pardon—I thought perhaps—”
He hesitated, surprised by her very unexpected answer. He could not imagine what she wanted.
“Because I said that I didn’t like you?” she asked.
“Well—yes.”
“Then it was I who offended you,” answered the young girl. “I didn’t mean to, either. Only, when you said that you liked me, I thought you were in earnest, you know, and so I wanted to be quite honest, because I thought it was fairer. You see, if I had let you think that I liked you, you might have thought we were going to drift into being friends, and that’s impossible, you know—because I never did like you, and I never shall. But that needn’t prevent our walking together, and talking, and all that. At least, I don’t mean that it should. That’s the reason why I won’t turn back just yet—”
“But how in the world can you enjoy walking and talking with a man you don’t like?” asked Johnstone, who was completely at sea, and began to think that he must be dreaming.