There was so much of concentrated passion in his voice, and such an authoritative ring in his tone, that it aroused something of resentment and antagonism in Gladys’ heart, in spite of her sympathy for him.
She turned and faced him, standing straight and tall and calm before him.
“You have no right to speak in this way to me, Mr. Mapleson,” she said, with quiet dignity, “and I am under no obligation to explain why I do not favor your suit. The chief reason in any such case, I think, is that persons are not congenial to each other.”
“Do you mean to tell me that I am not congenial to you, Miss Huntress?” the young man interrupted, almost fiercely.
“You have it in your power to be a very pleasant friend, Mr. Mapleson; but more than that you could never be to me under any circumstances,” Gladys answered, coldly. Her tone more than her words drove him almost to despair.
“Tell me, is it because you love another?” he persisted.
“I could not truthfully give that as the reason.”
“That does not answer me. Do you love some one else?”
“Yes,” answered the beautiful girl, briefly and proudly.
“Are you betrothed?”