"Oh, well!" she sighed, "why don't you dislike me, then; since you seem too? You wish I wasn't here!"
"Very much," he admitted.
"Why? What harm do I do?"
"Haven't you told me that this morning?"
"No!" she cried. "You weren't thinking of that; you know you weren't. You believe that would have happened anyhow. It was what you meant about making fools of men."
"Well," he said, "don't you make fools of them?"
She shook her head softly.
"My mistake then," he said.
"Ah!" she sighed, "but you don't think so. I daresay you think something much more horrid of me than you care to say. And it ought to have been rather nice for you all, having me up here."
"Yes," he said, "I think it ought."