“You know he wanted you, Maria Edgham.”
“He got over it pretty quickly then,” said Maria.
“Maybe he hasn't got over it. Lily Merrill is just one of the kind of girls who lead a man on when they don't know they're being led. He is proud, too; he comes of a family that have always held their heads high. He wanted you.”
“Nonsense!”
“You can't tell me. I know.”
“Aunt Maria,” said Maria, with sudden earnestness, “if you ever tell such a thing as that out, I don't know what I shall do.”
“I ain't going to have folks think you're slighted,” said Aunt Maria. She had made up her mind, in fact, to tell Eunice after supper.
“Slighted!” said Maria, angrily. “There is no question of slight. Do you think I was in love with George Ramsey?”
“No, I don't, for if you had been you would have had him instead of letting a little dolly-pinky, rosy-like Lily Merrill get him. I think he was a good match, and I don't know what possessed you, but I don't think you wanted him.”
“If you talk about it you will make people think so,” said Maria, passionately; “and if they do I will go away from Amity and never come back as long as I live.”