Polk Hayes is an up-to-date, bright man of the world, with lots of brains and I should say about the average masculine nature, and a great deal more than the average amount of human charm. However, he has got no more brains than I have, has had really fewer advantages, and it ought to be easy for me to hold my own against him. But I am about to fail on him.
For the last two weeks he has been constantly with Nell and has got her in a dreamy state that shows in her face and every movement of her slim body. And yet I know without the shadow of a doubt that he is just biding his time to try me out and get me on his own terms. My heart aches for Nell, and I just couldn't see him murder her girlhood, and it will amount to that if he involves her heart any more than it is. I made up my mind to have it out with him and accordingly let him come and sit on my side steps with me late yesterday afternoon, when I have avoided being alone with him for a month.
"Polk," I asked him suddenly without giving him time to get the situation into his own hands, skilled in their woman-handling, "do you intend to marry Nell or just plain break her heart for the fun you get out of it?"
His dangerous eyes smoldered back at me for a long minute before he answered me:
"Men don't break women's hearts, Evelina."
"I think you are right," I answered slowly, "they do just wring and distort them and deform them for life. But I intend to see that Nell's has no such tortur ous operation performed on it if I can appeal to you or convince her."
"When you argue with Nell be sure and don't tell her just exactly the things you have done to me all this summer through, Evelina." he answered coolly.
"What do you mean?" I demanded, positively cold with a kind of astonished fear.
"I mean that I have never offered Nell one half of the torture you have offered me, every day since you came home, with your damned affectionate friendliness. When I laugh, you answer it before it gets articulate, and when I gloom, you are as sympathetic as sympathy itself. I have held your hand and kissed it, instituting and not quenching a raging thirst thereby, as you are experienced enough to know. You have made yourself everything for me that is responsive and desirable and beautiful and worthy and have put me back every time I have reached out to grasp you. You don't want me, you don't want to marry me at all, you just want —excitement. You are as cold as ice that grinds and generates fire. Very well, you don't have to take me—and I'll get what I can from Nell—and others."
"Oh, Polk, how could you have misunderstood me like this?" I moaned from the depths of an almost broken heart. But as I moaned I understood—I understood!