"I'm just not going, that's all."
"What do you intend to do, then, while I'm gone?"
"Just what I'm doing now."
"You intend to continue your—er—engagement?"
"No; I'll break that off." I looked at Roger. "I owe that to him."
"H-m! Owe nothing to me, eh?"
My eyes filled up. I did owe much to him. He came over, picked my face up by the chin, and then drew me back to the seat by the fireplace, seating himself in the Morris chair, with me on the stool. He talked very gently to me now, and as if he were speaking to a child; but I could think only of one thing—that he was going away and I could not go with him. Why, he had not even told me he loved me, and though a few moments before I had believed he did, now the torturing doubts came up again. If he loved me, would he not want to marry me? Other men, like Bob and Dick, did.
"Roger, tell me this," I said. "Suppose I went to school and then to college, would I be like—other girls—I mean society girls—girls in your class?"
"You're better than they are now. You are in a class all by yourself, Nora."
"Don't answer me like that. You know what I want to know. Would I be socially their equal, for instance?"