“I have helped you always as much as I have been able,” he replied, with dignity.
“Then why do you treat me as you do? Why do you despise me? You do despise me! I know you do. Why do you feel that you ought to control yourself just because you have a desire to come and see me?”
“Not because I despise you. I despise nobody. Who am I to——”
“There you are again! Do you think I’m not clever enough to see the sly way you wriggle off the point? I’m not as clever as you, maybe, but I am clever enough to be hurt by what you say! The only way you can truthfully say you don’t despise me is by saying you don’t despise anybody! Do you really think I am dull enough not to see that? Oh, Mr. Verreker, what have I done? What have I done?”
“You are being foolish, Miss Weston.... You have——”
“Miss Weston now, eh? Something else. Do you think I don’t notice these things? Do you know the last time you ever called me Cathie? I don’t suppose you remember, but I do: it was on May 19th last. Over six months ago.”
“This is childish,” he muttered scornfully, and his lips curled in contempt. He turned away from her and began walking about the room.
“Childish, is it?—Is it childish to be hurt at little things that show you’re going down—in the—estimation of people you—you—whom you like?”
“I have given you no valid indication that you have gone down in my estimation.”
“Do you deny that I have?”