"I've always been glad to listen to you," he corrected.
"But it makes a friend so provoked to have one listen and then go ahead and do just as one likes. I want to ask you—while you have been away from me have you been reflecting on what I said?"
He stammered a bit, and there was not absolute candor in his eyes. "To tell the truth, Lana, I allowed myself to be taken up considerably with other matters. But I did remember my promise to hurry back to you, just the minute I could break away," he added, apologetically.
"I'm a little disappointed in you, just the same, Stewart! I've been hoping that you were putting your mind on what I said to you. I was hoping that when you came back——"
"Well, go on, Lana!" he prompted, gently, when she paused.
"It's so hard for me to say it so it will sound as I mean it," she lamented. "To make my interest appear exactly what it is. To find the words to fit my thoughts just now! I know what they're saying about me these days in Marion. I know our folks so well! I don't need to hear the words; I have been studying their faces this evening. You, also, know what they're saying, Stewart!"
He confined his assent to a significant nod; Jeanie MacDougal's few words on the subject had been, for him, a comprehensive summary of the general gossip.
"When I was speechifying to you in St. Ronan's office you thought I had come back here filled with airs and lofty notions. I knew how you felt!"
He shook his head and allowed the extent of his negation to be limited to that! "I'll tell you how I felt—some time—but now I'll listen to you."
"I was putting all that on for show, Stewart! I felt so—so—I don't know! Embarrassed, perhaps! And I felt that you—" her color deepened then in true embarrassment. "And—and—they were all there!" It was naïve confession, and he smiled.