“Yes—I know. You needn’t tell me that I’m generally too pale. Were my eyes different from usual?”
“They were very bright, with a far-away look at the same time—as though you saw him through the wall.”
“Do you think any one would have noticed how I looked? I mean—any one sitting near me, as you are?”
“I should think so—yes,” answered Katharine, without much hesitation. “I only said what any one would have thought who happened to see you just then. I didn’t think there was any harm in it. I shall certainly never say it again, since you’re displeased.”
“Oh—that doesn’t matter!” exclaimed Hester, with a little scornful laugh. “As we’re not to be friends any more, you can displease me as much as you like now. It doesn’t matter in the least!”
“How strange you are, Hester!” Katharine said, thoughtfully. “I don’t in the least understand you.”
“We never really understood each other,” replied Hester. “We only thought we did. But—as I say—since we’re not to be friends any more, it’s of no consequence.”
“You can’t say that—that we never understood each other,” said Katharine. “It’s not true.”
“Oh yes, it is! We never understood—never, what I mean by understanding. So I blush, and stare, and behave like a schoolgirl, when Walter comes in singing! I didn’t know it. I am glad you’ve told me, for I don’t like to do foolish things in public.”
“I don’t think it’s always foolish to show what one feels. It’s better to feel something, and show it, than to feel nothing at all.”