Mr. Brand walked beside her for a while in silence; Gertrude wished he would go away. “He is certainly very accomplished. But I think I ought to advise you.”
“To advise me?”
“I think I know your nature.”
“I think you don’t,” said Gertrude, with a soft laugh.
“You make yourself out worse than you are—to please him,” Mr. Brand said, gently.
“Worse—to please him? What do you mean?” asked Gertrude, stopping.
Mr. Brand stopped also, and with the same soft straight-forwardness, “He doesn’t care for the things you care for—the great questions of life.”
Gertrude, with her eyes on his, shook her head. “I don’t care for the great questions of life. They are much beyond me.”
“There was a time when you didn’t say that,” said Mr. Brand.
“Oh,” rejoined Gertrude, “I think you made me talk a great deal of nonsense. And it depends,” she added, “upon what you call the great questions of life. There are some things I care for.”