I think I was at a loss; then I said, not very clearly, “I don’t.”
“You think you—you love me, Willie. But you don’t.”
“I do. Nettie! You know I do.”
For answer she shook her head.
I made what I thought was a most heroic plunge. “Nettie,” I said, “I’d rather have you than—than my own opinions.”
The selaginella still engaged her. “You think so now,” she said.
I broke out into protestations.
“No,” she said shortly. “It’s different now.”
“But why should two letters make so much difference?” I said.
“It isn’t only the letters. But it is different. It’s different for good.”