"It's natural for him to feel bitter against me. I'm sorry, of course. But it doesn't matter."
"If he's got to feel bitter, let him feel bitter against me. If anyone is to blame, I am to blame."
"What did he say about me?" I asked.
"He said you were the kind of man that men didn't count when they were counting up the number of men they knew. He said you had always been too idle to keep out of mischief. And that no pretty woman would be safe from you—if you weren't afraid … Afraid!"
"That's quite an indictment."
"I said: 'Why didn't you say all that to his face, when he was here, instead of waiting till you could say it behind his back …'"
Here she turned to me with the most wonderful look of tenderness and trust.
"But I know what I know. And you are the kindest and the truest and the gentlest man …"
"Oh, I'm not! I'm not, Lucy!… But what does that matter, if I never let you find out the difference?… We mustn't take what John says too seriously. He's had enough trouble to warp his mind."
She still looked up into my face with that wonderful trust and tenderness. "And you are the most generous man to another man!" she said.