"We have always been friends, haven't we, Christian?"
"No," said Christian, still speaking in that level, indifferent voice; "you were never my friend."
"Oh, Christian! but I tried to be."
"No," said Christian again.
She gazed straight before her. Her voice was never raised; it never altered its level, indifferent tones. It seemed to Star as she listened that Christian did not care whether they were friends or foes. For a minute the little girl was absolutely silent.
"I wish to tell you something," she then said gravely. "Can you listen to me, Christian?"
Christian's eyes were fixed on Star's face. She did not speak.
"I wish to tell you that I am very sorry for what happened a couple of days ago. I don't mean only about not finding Dawson's bill in my purse after you had it in your lap for an hour or more; I don't mean only that, but I mean what I did afterwards. For I was so hurt, and so frightened, and so angry that I scarcely knew what I was doing. I forgot myself, Christian, and I sent for all my friends and told them that I had given you up."
"Yes," said Christian.