"Dearest, did I disgust you with my savage talk?"
"I do not like such sentiments from you, Valentine. It does not sound womanly, and those people criticise you severely enough as it is."
Her eyes darkened again; her lips curled.
"What do I care for their good opinion!"
"It is well for us to care for everybody's good opinion."
"Miss Lawrence has taught you that great and noble truth, has she? You have grown very critical of my speech and manners yourself since she came among us. Frank, Frank! what is it coming between us?" she cried, in sudden, piteous entreaty.
"Your jealous imagination, Valentine. A man does not like to be doubted, frowned upon, every time he speaks to, or looks at, another woman."
"Is that all? Tell me, on your honor."
"Yes," he said; but his eyes shifted under her eager gaze, and a slight flush rose to his face. But she was too anxious to believe him to heed such fine changes of expression.
"I am a miserable, jealous creature, all fire and wicked temper," she humbly acknowledged. "I have tormented you, I know; but unfortunately for me I love you with all my heart, instead of just a little bit of it, and it is a great strong heart, dearest, if it is wayward and untamed."