"Don't I know it!" Peggy drew a long breath. "That was one of the things that made me anxious."
"Well, when he told me—that he cared for me, I just snatched at him, Peggy. I was perfectly delighted that somebody thought I was attractive. And I was such a silly little fool that I actually gloated over being the second girl out of us four to get engaged. Peggy, I'm terribly ashamed to tell you all this, but now's the time to finish up the subject and be done with it."
"Priscilla darling, I can understand everything except your feeling that way about yourself."
"Of course I wasn't happy," Priscilla went on. "I don't know whether Horace was or not. He always talked in a dreadfully pessimistic fashion, but I rather think—"
"Just a pose," interpolated Peggy witheringly. "Even when he was a little boy, Horace was always playing a part."
"Once or twice I tried to tell him I thought we had made a mistake. When I thought of going on and on through the years it didn't seem as if I could bear it. And then he talked so dreadfully, Peggy, and I was afraid he'd kill himself."
"No such luck," snorted Priscilla's audience. It was hard to believe that it was really Peggy making such a speech and looking so fierce and angry. Priscilla interrupted her story by a little hysterical laugh.
"The last time was only two weeks ago at the foot-ball game. He was so disagreeable that I tried again to get out of it, and then he took it so to heart that I gave up all hope of ever being free. When I read that account today, and it came over me all at once that I needn't ever see Horace Hitchcock again, it seemed as if I'd die of joy. I believe I should have, too, if I hadn't begun to cry."
Peggy was still scornful. "The idea of your sacrificing yourself for such a fellow as Horace."
"Only because I was to blame, Peggy. As long as my silly vanity had got me into such a scrape, I thought nothing was too bad for me."