'I don't understand what you mean,' she said wonderingly.
'You would not understand, of course. I am afraid I must explain to you. You will forgive me?'
'I have not the least idea,' she said impetuously, 'what I am to understand, or what I am to forgive. Mr. Ericson, do for pity's sake be plain with me.'
'I have resolved to be,' he said gloomily.
'What on earth has been happening? Why have you changed in this way to me?'
'I have not changed.'
'Well, tell me the whole story,' she said impatiently, 'if there is a story.'
'There is a story,' he said, with a melancholy smile, 'a very silly story—but still a story. Look here, Miss Langley: even if you do not know that you are beautiful and charming and noble-hearted and good—as I well know that you are all this and ever so much more—you must know that you are very rich.'
'Yes, I do know that, and I am glad of it sometimes, and I hate it sometimes. I don't know yet whether I am going to be glad of it or to hate it now. Go on, Mr. Ericson, please, and tell me what is to follow this prologue about my disputed charms and virtues—for I assure you there are many people, some women among the rest, who think me neither good-looking nor even good—and my undisputed riches.' She was plucking up a spirit now, and was much more like her usual self. She felt herself tied to the stake, and was determined to fight the course.
'Do you know,' he asked, 'that people say I am coming here after you?'