"Please don't waste this dear little hour in explaining!" he begged. "I want you to know—to feel absolutely that nothing you might ever do could be misunderstood by me! I feel now that I know you—your impulsive, headstrong ways—"
"'Heart-strong,' Aunt Patricia used to say," I modified softly.
He nodded.
"Of course—'heart-strong!' I understand you! I understand why you refrained from telling me of your engagement, even."
My eyes dropped.
"I didn't—know then."
"You didn't know how I felt—what an unhappy complication you were stirring up."
There was a tense little silence, then he spoke again.
"If you are not in love with your fiancé—never have been in love with him—why do you maintain the relationship?" he asked, in as careful and businesslike a manner as if he were inquiring the price of pig-iron.
"Because—because that's the way we do things down here in this state," I answered. "What we never have done before, we have a hard time starting—and mother idolizes him!"