“How should I know whether they think me that or not?” she asked, reddening and tossing her head.
“Well, answer to the best of your knowledge.”
“We’ve not visited much; but only because we lived so far apart, and are all busy with our own affairs and church work. They know I’m always active in those things; and I presume they have every confidence in my piety—as most people have who know me.”
“But not too well—eh, Dora?” he supplemented, with a sneer.
“Avery, if you have nothing but insults for me, I’ll go back to my own part of the house,” she said, rising with dignity, while her face flushed hotly and her eyes sparkled with anger.
“Nonsense! we understand each other, Dora,” he returned, with an unpleasant laugh, as he pushed her back into her seat—not roughly. “Stay and hear me out. I think you’ll find it to your advantage to do that and something besides, which I am going to propose.”
She yielded, though ungraciously and with a frowning face.
He told her of his purpose to wed Miriam Heath, and the small encouragement he had to hope she would ever become his bride of her own free will.
Mrs. Wiley’s face grew darker as he proceeded. “Why do you seek her, then?” she asked in impatience. “She is no such prize that—”
“Pardon me, madam, if I venture to differ from you there,” he interrupted, drawing himself up with a haughty air. “Miriam Heath is an uncommonly fine girl in both looks and character. Where, let me ask, could you find another who could and would do what she has done—carry on a farm and support a family in comfort?”