I felt perfectly wild and helpless.
“After that Letter!” he went on. “After that sweet Letter! You said, you know, that you were mad to see me, and that—it is almost too sacred to repeat, even to you—that you would always love me. After that Confession I refuse to agree that all is over. It can never be over.”
“I daresay I am losing my mind,” I said. “It all sounds perfectly natural. But it doesn’t mean anything. There can’t be any Harold Valentine; because I made him up. But there is, so there must be. And I am going crazy.”
“Look here,” he stormed, suddenly quite raving, and throwing out his right hand. It would have been terrably dramatic, only he had a glass of punch in it. “I am not going to be played with. And you are not going to jilt me without a reason. Do you mean to deny everything? Are you going to say, for instance, that I never sent you any violets? Or gave you my Photograph, with an—er—touching inscription on it?” Then, appealingly, “You can’t mean to deny that Photograph, Bab!”
And then that lanky wretch of an Eddie Perkins brought me a toy Baloon, and I had to dance, with my heart crushed.
Nevertheless, I ate a fair supper. I felt that I needed Strength. It was quite a grown-up supper, with boullion and creamed chicken and baked ham and sandwitches, among other things. But of course they had to show it was a ‘kid’ party, after all. For instead of coffee we had milk.
Milk! When I was going through a tradgedy. For if it is not a tradgedy to be engaged to a man one never saw before, what is it?
All through the refreshments I could feel that his eyes were on me. And I hated him. It was all well enough for Jane to say he was handsome. She wasn’t going to have to marry him. I detest dimples in chins. I always have. And anybody could see that it was his first mustache, and soft, and that he took it round like a mother pushing a new baby in a perambulater. It was sickning.
I left just after supper. He did not see me when I went upstairs, but he had missed me, for when Hannah and I came down, he was at the door, waiting. Hannah was loaded down with silly favors, and lagged behind, which gave him a chance to speak to me. I eyed him coldly and tried to pass him, but I had no chance.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, dearest,” he whispered.