"It was done in ignorance, remember; though, as you reminded me not long since, that doesn't soften facts. Slang me; hate me for it, if you must. It can't be helped."
"But I don't hate you, mon ami; I couldn't if I tried for a month."
This was disconcerting. He had thought to snap the cord of their friendship, and so make it easier to see less of her in future.
"Not even now you know?" he persisted desperately. And she shook her head.
"Yet you told me distinctly that you could never forgive that unlucky chap."
"But then I never guessed it was you," she retorted with true woman's logic. "How could one hate you, after what happened last month. Eldred told me."
"That,"—he shrugged his shoulders,—"that was a mere nothing."
"Excuse me, as men go now it was a good deal. But still—I am puzzled.
If you shirked telling me all this while, what made you tell me to-day?"
This also was disconcerting. But he did his best.
"I don't know. Perhaps it was talking of rewards. Besides—I'm one of those clumsy fools who never feel quite comfortable until he has blurted out the truth."