“I didn’t come again at once because it was easier not to. But I have come to repeat that what I said then is still true—truer than it was then.”
“Please don’t, please don’t!” A pitiful little sob broke from her and wrung his heart. But he went on.
“That is what I came to say. I have thought that perhaps I did not say just what I meant,—that I did not make you understand.”
She was silent and he added:
“It is a man’s right to tell a woman that he loves her.”
“I suppose it is,” said Zelda, hurriedly; “but I ask you, if you are my friend,—if you care to be anything to me, not to talk of things that only trouble me.”
“And I suppose,” said Leighton, not heeding her, “that a woman will be as kind to him as she can, whether the idea pleases her or not. Women are naturally kind-hearted,—at least, they have that reputation.”
“You flatter us,” said Zelda, coldly.
“It must be pleasant occasionally to be arbitrary,—to do things a little extraordinary just because we dare,” he persisted.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about;” but she liked to have him speak to her so.