“If—you wished to marry anybody else.”
“I do not,” said Wollaston, with a half-bitter laugh. “You can have your mind easy on that score. I have not thought of such a thing as possible for me.”
Maria cast a look of quick interest at him. Suddenly she saw his possible view of the matter, that it might be hard for him to forego the happiness which other young men had.
“I would not shrink at all,” she said, gently, “if at any time you saw anybody whom you wished to marry. You need not hesitate. I am not so selfish as that. I do not wish your life spoiled.”
Wollaston laughed pleasantly. “My life is not to be spoiled because of any such reason as that,” he said, “and I have not seen anybody whom I wished to marry. You know I have mother to look out for, and she makes a pleasant home for me. You need not worry about me, but sometimes I have worried a little about you, poor child.”
“You need not, so far as that is concerned,” cried Maria, almost angrily. A sense of shame and humiliation was over her. She did not love Wollaston Lee. She felt the same old terror and disgust at him, but it mortified her to have him think that she might wish to marry anybody else.
“Well, I am glad of that,” said Wollaston. “I suppose you like your work.”
“Yes.”
“After all, work is the main thing,” said Wollaston.
“Yes,” assented Maria, eagerly.