"To kneel to me!" he resumed, as if he could not get over it. "For man to kneel to woman may be folly, but at least it is the voluntary submission of strength; but for woman to kneel to man—what is it—save the painful submission of weakness. If you have any regard for me, if you care for me, never do that again."
I promised I would not, then added:
"Have you forgiven me, Cornelius?"
"What have I to forgive?"
"You know—I do not."
He looked around as I still stood by him in the attitude of an unforgiven child, and he sighed.
"You wish for an explanation," he said in a troubled tone, "so do I, and yet I dread it."
"Cornelius, I will do all I can not to annoy you. Question me and I will answer you in all the sincerity of my heart. If I have done wrong, it is by mistake, and indeed William too. We are both very young and ignorant, Cornelius?"
"Both! What is that young man to you that his name cannot be severed from yours?"
"He is my friend, Cornelius."