"Then, if you thought these things, you had no right to propose to me!" she said passionately.
He was faintly amused.
"I did not propose to you, Lucy," he answered, "and I never intended to do so! I merely asked what your answer would be if I did."
"It comes to the same thing!" she muttered.
"Pardon me, not quite! I told you I was putting you to a test. That you failed to stand my test is the conclusion of the whole affair. We really need say no more about it. The matter is finished."
She bit her lips vexedly, then forced a hard smile.
"It's about time it was finished, I'm sure!" she said carelessly. "I'm perfectly tired out!"
"No doubt you are—you must be—I was forgetting how late it is," and with ceremonious politeness he opened the door for her to pass. "You have had an exhausting evening! Forgive me for any pain or vexation—or—or anger I may have caused you—and, good-night, Lucy! God bless you!"
He held out his hand. He looked worn and wan, and his face showed pitiful marks of fatigue, loneliness, and sorrow, but the girl was too much incensed by her own disappointment to forgive him for the unexpected trial to which he had submitted her disposition and character.
"Good-night!" she said curtly, avoiding his glance. "I suppose everybody's gone by this time; mother will be waiting for me."