“Oh, quite; but I prefer to use one pronoun and stick to it, instead of muddling them up as you do. Why are you always in such a hurry to snap a fellow up?” cried Jack irritably.
Mollie made a naughty little moue.
“I thought it was the other way about! I was most mild and lamb-like, when you snubbed me for my grammar, abused my sex, and accused me of bad temper. It shows how little you know of my beautiful disposition!”
Jack flicked the pony again, his face darkened by a frown.
“No, I don’t know you—how should I? You never give me a chance. You show me only the frivolous side of your character. You are always laughing, joking, frivolling. In all these weeks I have only once had a glimpse of your real self. You evidently do not wish me to know you in any real or intimate sense; but that is your own fault, not mine.”
“If you have seen it only once, it cannot be my real self,” said Mollie quietly. She had grown, not red but white, as she listened to Jack’s words, and her heart had begun to beat in an agitating fashion hitherto unknown. She felt as if somebody had suddenly dealt her an unexpected blow, for until this moment she had fondly imagined herself to be good friends with Jack Melland. “You do not know me, because, perhaps, there is nothing to know, beyond the frivolous, silly creature you dislike so much!”
“There you go again, exaggerating and catching up my words! Who said I disliked you? We were not talking of likes or dislikes. We were talking of knowing each other properly. I wouldn’t trouble my head if you were an ordinary, empty-headed girl, but I know you are not. There is another side to your character, and I want to see and know you in it, but you evade me, and refuse to show yourself. I suppose I am not worth the trouble of talking to seriously?”
Mollie shook her head dejectedly.
“I am not evading, I am not hiding anything. I’m nineteen, and out for a holiday. It’s the first taste of luxury I’ve ever known. I enjoyed it so much,”—unconsciously to herself she used the past, not the present, tense—“that surely it was natural for me to be light-hearted. I am not highly educated, and I’ve lived a very quiet life. It’s only natural that I seem stupid in comparison with other girls you have met. I suppose they are very clever and well read?”
Jack kept his eyes on the road, mentally classifying the girls with whom he had been most closely brought in contact in his town life. Yes! they were for the most part accomplished and clever; but were they not also apt to be discontented with their lot, given to grumbling at the restrictions of home life, and to imagine themselves ill-used and unappreciated? Mollie’s radiant good-humour and unconsciousness of self were qualities unknown among them. What poor, anaemic images they appeared beside her! Yet he was continually provoked by the very cheerfulness which he mentally approved. Jack frowned, puzzled and disquieted. As a rule, he was at no loss to account for his prejudices, but for once he found himself completely mystified. What exactly was it that he wanted of Mollie Farrell, the lack of which rankled in his veins? He could not tell, and annoyance with self gave an added touch of irritation to his tone.