“Oh—well—no. Of course you have the right to refuse him, if he asks you in so many words—”
“Of course I have! What are you thinking of?” There was a look of something between indignation and amusement in her face.
“Yes—but there are so many ways, child. Katharine,” she continued, almost appealingly, “you can’t just say ‘no’ and tell him to stop coming—you’ll change your mind—you don’t know what a nice young fellow he is—”
Katharine’s hand dropped from the door-handle, and she folded her arms as she faced her mother.
“What is all this?” she asked, deliberately and with emphasis. “You seem to me to be very excited. I should almost fancy that you had something else in your mind, though I can’t understand what it is.”
“No—no; certainly not. It’s only for your sake and his,” answered Mrs. Lauderdale, hurriedly. “I’ve known it happen so often that a girl refuses a man just because she’s in a temper about something, and then—afterwards, you know—she regrets it, when it’s too late, and the man has married some one else out of spite.”
“How strangely you talk!” exclaimed Katharine, gazing at her mother in genuine surprise.
“My dear, I only don’t want you to do anything rash and unkind. You spoke as though you meant to be as hard and cold as a mill-stone—as though he’d done something outrageous in wanting to marry you.”
“Not at all. I said that I should refuse him and beg him to stop coming to see me. There’s nothing particularly like a mill-stone in that. It’s the honest truth in the first place—for I won’t marry him, and you can’t force me to—”
“But nobody thinks of forcing you—”