“I think so,” said Anne wearily. “Oh, Phil, don’t scold me. You don’t understand.”
“I certainly don’t understand. You’ve encouraged Roy Gardner in every way for two years—and now you tell me you’ve refused him. Then you’ve just been flirting scandalously with him. Anne, I couldn’t have believed it of you.”
“I wasn’t flirting with him—I honestly thought I cared up to the last minute—and then—well, I just knew I never could marry him.”
“I suppose,” said Phil cruelly, “that you intended to marry him for his money, and then your better self rose up and prevented you.”
“I didnt’t. I never thought about his money. Oh, I can’t explain it to you any more than I could to him.”
“Well, I certainly think you have treated Roy shamefully,” said Phil in exasperation. “He’s handsome and clever and rich and good. What more do you want?”
“I want some one who belongs in my life. He doesn’t. I was swept off my feet at first by his good looks and knack of paying romantic compliments; and later on I thought I must be in love because he was my dark-eyed ideal.”
“I am bad enough for not knowing my own mind, but you are worse,” said Phil.
“I do know my own mind,” protested Anne. “The trouble is, my mind changes and then I have to get acquainted with it all over again.”
“Well, I suppose there is no use in saying anything to you.”