'How can I convince you of the injustice of your suspicions?'
'I see all plainly enough; it is fate, I suppose.... Selfishness. We all think of ourselves—we can't help it; and that's what makes life so miserable.... He would be a very good match. You have got him to like you. Perhaps you didn't intend to; but you have done it all the same.'
'But, Emily dear, listen! There is no question of marriage between me and Mr. Price. If you will only have patience, things will come right in the end.'
'For you, perhaps.'
'Emily, Emily! ... You should try to understand things better.'
'I feel them, even if I don't understand.'
'Admit that you were wrong about the ring. Have I not convinced you that you were wrong?'
Emily did not answer. But at the end of a long silence, in which she had been pursuing a different train of thought, she said, 'Then you mean that he has never asked you to marry him?'
The directness of the question took Julia by surprise, and, falsehood being unnatural to her, she hesitated, hardly knowing what to answer. Her hesitation was only momentary; but in that moment there came up such a wave of pity for the grief-stricken girl that she lied for pity's sake, 'No, he never asked me to marry him. I assure you that he never did. If you do not believe me——' As she was about to say, 'I will swear it if you like,' an irresponsible sensation of pride in her ownership of his love surged up through her, overwhelming her will, and she ended the sentence, 'I am very sorry, but I cannot help it.'
The words were still well enough; it was in the accent that the truth transpired. And then yielding still further to the force which had subjugated her will, she said—