“I am indeed mad in my unhappiness,” I groaned.
“You owe me an explanation for your extraordinary words,” you continued.
“Miss Walton,” I said, “Mr. Whitely is not a man to make you happy, and in hopes of saving you from him I spoke as I did. I had no right, as none can know better than myself, but perhaps you will forgive the impertinence when I say that my motive was only to save you from future misery.”
“Why should I not be happy in marrying Mr. Whitely?”
“Because you are deceiving yourself about him.”
“In what respect?”
“His character is other than you think it.”
“Be more specific.”
“That I cannot be.”
“Why not?”