“Oh, Jess, I’m so glad that you have come. I do so want you to advise me—that is, to tell me what you think,” and she paused.
“You must tell me what it is all about first, Bessie dear,” she said, sitting down opposite to her in such a position that her face was shaded from the light. Bessie tapped her naked foot against the matting with which the little room was carpeted. It was an exceedingly pretty foot.
“Well, dear old girl, it is just this—Frank Muller has been here to ask me to marry him.”
“Oh,” said Jess, with a sigh of relief. So that was all? She felt as though a ton-weight had been lifted from her heart. She had expected this bit of news for some time.
“He wanted me to marry him, and when I said I would not, he behaved like—like——”
“Like a Boer,” suggested Jess.
“Like a brute,” went on Bessie with emphasis.
“So you don’t care for Frank Muller?”
“Care for him! I loathe the man. You don’t know how I loathe him, with his handsome bad face and his cruel eyes. I always loathed him, and now I hate him too. But I will tell you all about it;” and she did, with many feminine comments and interpolations.
Jess sat quite still, and waited till she had finished.