On Pats’s face the look of shame deepened. In a very low voice he said: “Please remember that I was not myself.”
130“I make allowance for that.”
“Excuse my asking, but if I was out of my head and irresponsible, what could I have said to make you believe that I was–in love with you?”
“You protested so violently that you were not.”
With unspeakable horror and humiliation Pats began to realize the awful possibilities of that divulgence of his most secret thoughts. A cold chill crept up his spine. He looked down at the floor, from fear that she might glance in his direction and meet his eyes. Solomon, who felt there was trouble in the air, came nearer and placed his cold wet snout against the clinched hands of his master; but the hands were unresponsive.
At last, the stricken man mustered courage enough to stammer in a constrained voice:
“It is not from curiosity I ask it, but would you mind telling me–giving me at least some idea of what I said?”
Elinor carefully deposited a neatly folded handkerchief upon a little pile of other handkerchiefs. Then, looking down at the table and not at Pats, she said calmly, as she continued her work:
131“You said I was a pious hypocrite–coldblooded and heartless–and a fool. You repeated a great many times that I was superior, pretentious, and ‘everlastingly stuck on myself,’–I think that was the expression. Of course, I cannot repeat your own words. They were forcible, but exceedingly profane.”
“Oh!”