“I promise,” taking out his watch. “You may hammer at me for twenty minutes. I have an engagement at half past three.”
Did Nan Gerard care as she had cared once? Would the sound of his wheels be to Naughty Nan what they were to her a year ago? A blue and gold edition of Longfellow was laid open on its face on the broad window-sill; she ran her forefinger the length of both covers before she could temper her voice; she did not wish to speak coldly, and yet her heart was very cold towards him.
“I think that you took me by surprise at first; I thought you were the handsomest man in the world—”
“You have changed that opinion?” he said, laughing.
“Yes; I should not think of describing you as handsome now; I should simply say that you were tall, dark, with deep-set, not remarkable, brown eyes, a quiet manner, given to few words—not at all remarkable, you are aware.”
“Go on, I am not demolished yet.”
“Your spirit I created out of my own fancies; I gave you in those enthusiastic days a heart like a woman’s heart, and a perfect intellect. You were my Sir Galahad, until I knew that some things you said were not—quite true?”
“Not quite true!” he repeated huskily.
Her eyes as well as her fingers were on the blue covers.
“Not true as I meant truth. Your words did not mean to you what they meant to me—I beg your pardon; do not let me savor of strong-mindedness, but I speak from my heart to your heart. You asked me a question frankly, I have answered it frankly. You said some things to Sue that you ought not to have said and that hurt me; I began to feel that you are not sincere through and through and through. At first I believed wholly in you and then I believed not at all. I was very bitter. And it hurt me so that I would rather have died.”