“Then it is only natural that her miserable fate should sadden you.”
He spoke as if with respectful sympathy, ignoring what she had said.
“It has no effect whatever upon me,” Rhoda answered, glancing at him with surprise and displeasure.
“Forgive me if I say that I find it difficult to believe that. Perhaps you—”
She interrupted him.
“I don’t easily forgive anyone who charges me with falsehood, Mr. Barfoot.”
“Oh, you take it too seriously. I beg your pardon a thousand times. I was going to say that perhaps you won’t allow yourself to acknowledge any feeling of compassion in such a case.”
“I don’t acknowledge what I don’t feel. I will bid you good-afternoon.”
He smiled at her with all the softness and persuasiveness of which he was capable. She had offered her hand with cold dignity, and instead of taking it merely for good-bye he retained it.
“You must, you shall forgive me! I shall be too miserable if you dismiss me in this way. I see that I was altogether wrong. You know all the particulars of the case, and I have only read a brief newspaper account. I am sure the girl didn’t deserve your pity.”