"You couldn't help it, Mr. Archie. You can't help being you. Can you?"
She tried to smile.
"How long," I asked, "has it been like this?"
"Ever since the day I came—three years and two hundred and twenty-one days ago—and I heard you say to Mrs. Mannering—to your mother—'Mother,' you said, 'that new maid is as pretty as a picture.' And that did it!"
"Hilda," I said as quietly as I could, "I'm more touched and flattered than I can express. I'll be a good friend to you as long as I live. But—I think I ought to say it, even if it's a cold rough thing to say. I don't believe I'm ever going to feel the same way about you, and so——"
"Oh, I know that, but—— Oh, do you still think I'm pretty?"
"Indeed I do. I've always thought that. Always known that."
"Well," she said, speaking very bravely but with a mouth that quivered, "that's something. I don't lead a very full life, but that's something."