“When you love somebody else, you mean?”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” cried Claude excitedly.
“Poor darling coz,” said Mary affectionately; “but I need not pray, dear. There’s no need. No man will ever sit down by me and take my hand and tell me he loves me. I shall be spared all that.”
“And now I’ve wounded you with my thoughtless speech, Mary, dear. Ah, my darling, if you only would not think of your appearance; I never do.”
“No, dear, you are beautiful.”
“Beautiful, Mary? Ah! how gladly I’d change places with you.”
“What? Young, pretty, rich, and with two lovers dying for you.”
“It is not true,” cried Claude, flushing up. “This man loves me for the money, and—”
She stopped short.
“Shall I finish?” said Mary maliciously; “and that man loves me for myself.”