“But they say women are very forgiving, Antony,” he said with a tinge of bitterness; and then, with his brow furrowing but a cynical smile upon his lip, he said, “We shall hear next that Miss Carr has forgiven him, and that they are married.”
“For shame!” I exclaimed indignantly. “You do not know Miss Carr, or you would not speak like that.”
He half closed his eyes after glancing at where his mother lay back in her easy-chair, asleep once more, for so she passed the greater part of her time.
“No,” he said softly, “I do not know her, Antony.”
I don’t know what possessed me to say what I did, but it seemed as if I was influenced to speak.
“I wish you did know her and love her, Hallett, for she is so—”
He started as if he had been stung.
“Are you mad?” he exclaimed angrily.
“No,” I said quietly, “but I think she likes you.”
“How could she?”