"Would it be the good man or the bad man that would help me?" she asked, remembering the former conversation.
"Both," answered Griggs, without hesitation.
"I am not sure that I might not like the bad man better," said Gloria, almost to herself.
"Is Reanda a bad man?" inquired Griggs, slowly, and looking for the blush in her face.
"Why?" But she blushed, as he expected.
"Because you like him better than me."
"You are quite different. It is of no use to talk about it, and I want to read."
She turned from him and buried herself in her book, but she moved restlessly two or three times, and it was some minutes before the heightened colour disappeared from her face.
She was very girlish still, and when she had irritated Griggs as far as such a man was capable of irritation, she preferred to refuse battle rather than deal with the difficulty she had created. But Griggs understood, and amongst his still small sufferings he often felt the little, dull, hopeless pang which tells a man that he is unlovable.