"Oh, I don't know," Joyce tossed her head. "You seem to think nobody would want me—I guess—they would—if I wanted them!" The girl was worn out; racked by the emotions that were reflected from the new attitude of others toward her.
And now Jude came around the table again. This time he walked steadily, and he was quite himself. The best self he had ever yet been.
"I want you Joyce—God knows I do."
"He said you did."
"Who?"
"He—said that? Then why in thunder did—he kiss you?"
That rock Jude dashed against at every turn.
"He didn't until—until I told him—I liked you."
Poor Joyce! She was never to tell any one that that admission had been wrung from her in order to make Gaston think he himself had not been deeply in her thoughts. It had been a difficult fencing match that afternoon.