“I hope that he has too much good sense to care long; some day when he can see how heartless you are, he will despise himself for having fancied that he loved you.”
“You don’t care how you hurt my feelings.”
“I am not sure that you have any to be hurt.”
“You are a mean thing; I don’t like you; I wish that I hadn’t asked you to come.”
Tessa’s eyes were on Josephus again.
After a long, silent hour, during which Sue looked out the window, and nibbled the edge of her book, and during which Tessa thought of every body and every thing except Felix Harrison, Sue spoke: “I’m going up-stairs for a while; excuse me, please.”
Tessa nodded, closed her book and leaned back in the pretty crimson and brown chair. Sue came to her and stood a moment; her heart was sore. If Tessa would only say something kind! But Tessa would not; she only said coolly, “Well?”
“You don’t believe that I am sorry.”
“I don’t believe any thing about it, but that you are heartless and wicked.”
Sue stood waiting for another word, but Tessa looked tired, and as if she had forgotten her presence. Why should she look so, Sue asked herself resentfully; she had nothing to trouble her? Sue went away, her arms dropped at her side, her long green dress trailing on the carpet; tenderness gathered in Tessa’s eyes as the green figure disappeared. “I don’t like to be hard to her,” she murmured.