The larger eye of Mr. Locker grew still larger, the other endeavored to emulate its companion's size; and his mouth became a rounded opening. "Discarded?" he cried.
"Yes," said she.
The countenance of the young man was now bright with interest and curiosity. "I don't suppose it would be right to ask you," said he, "even although I have taken you so completely into my confidence—but, never mind. Don't think of it. Of course, I would not propose such a question."
"Of course not," said she, "you are too manly for that." And then she was silent again. Naturally she hesitated to reveal the secrets of her heart, and to a gentleman with whom her acquaintance was of such recent date; but she earnestly wanted to repose confidence in another, as well as to receive it, and it was so seldom, so very seldom, that such an opportunity came to her.
"I do not know," she said, "that I ought to, but still—"
"Oh, don't, if you don't want to," said Locker.
"But I think I do want to," she replied. "You are so kind, so good, and you have confided in me. Yes, I was once discarded, not exactly by word of mouth, or even by message, but still discarded."
"A stranger to me, of course," said Locker, his whole form twisting itself into an interrogation-point.
"No," said she, "and as I have begun I will go on. It was Mr. Hemphill."
"What!" he exclaimed. "That—"