“I have waited for you here,” she began confusedly, “because I have things that I must tell you in private.”
“Yes, Mrs. Rock,” he answered; “but do you not think, under all the circumstances, that it would be better if you told them to me in public? You know this kind of meeting might be misunderstood.”
“Do not speak to me like that, I beg,” she said, clasping her hands and looking at him imploringly; then added, “and do not call me by that name: I cannot bear it from you, at any rate as yet.”
“I understand that it is your name, and I have no title to use any other.”
“Yes, it is my name,” she answered passionately; “but do you know why?”
“I know nothing except what your letters and your husband have told me, and really I do not think that I have any right to inquire further.”
“No, but I have a right to tell you. You think that I threw you over, do you not, and married Mr. Rock for my own reasons?”
“I must confess that I do; you would scarcely have married him for anybody else’s reasons.”
