The lips above the chin curled slightly.
"You see," I went on, striving to keep my voice even-toned, "my uncle is rich, but I ask no odds of him. I live entirely upon what I earn at law. It's the only way I can maintain my individuality, my self-respect and independence. My uncle has often expressed his desire to make me a handsome allowance, but what would be the use ... now?"—bitterly.
The chin moved a little. It was too dark to see what this movement expressed.
"It seems that I am only a very unfortunate fellow."
"You had given me your promise."
"I know it."
"Not that I cared,"—with cat-like cruelty; "but I lost the last train out while waiting for you. Not even a note to warn me! Not the slightest chance to find an escort! When a man gives his promise to a lady it does not seem possible that he could forget it ... if he cared to keep it."
"I tell you honestly that I mixed the dates." How weak my excuses seemed, now that they had passed my lips!
"You are sure that you mixed nothing else?"—ironically. (She afterward apologized for this.) "It appears that it would have been better to come alone."