She hesitated.
“Was it?” he repeated.
“I—I like Mr. Pearson very much. I respect and admire him.”
“But you don’t love him. I see. Well,” sadly, “there’s another one of my dreams gone to smash. However, you did just right, dearie. Feelin’ that way, you couldn’t marry him, of course.”
He would have risen now, and she detained him.
“That was not the reason,” she said, in a low tone.
“Hey?” he bent toward her. “What?” he cried. “That wa’n’t the reason, you say? You do care for him?”
She was silent.
“Do you?” he repeated, gently. “And yet you sent him away. Why?”
She faltered, tried to speak, and then turned away. He put his arm about her and stroked her hair.