Even had she not been engaged to Jefferson, Jim's avowal, considering the length of their acquaintance and the very small amount of conversation they had enjoyed together, would have been ill-timed and premature. As matters stood, Jim had no possible right to speak thus. But she had asked "Why?" and he had told her.
Jim himself, as soon as he had spoken, condemned himself for a fool, an ass, and an idiot. This would put an end to any little friendship that might have hitherto existed between them. What could he do to mend the sorry mistake his tongue had made?
He was the first to break the awkward silence. He laughed. Dora, on the other hand, bit her lip nervously.
"Please don't take me too seriously, Miss Dora," said Jim.
"So," said Dora, confronting him with dignity and flaming cheeks, "I am to regard what you said just now as a joke?"
"Well--if you like," replied Jim, rather awkwardly.
"Then I think you are very rude!" exclaimed Dora, "and I won't speak to you again."
She turned abruptly toward the steps leading up to the door of No. 9.
"Oh, I say, come now," expostulated Jim, "I think that is a little too severe. You asked 'Why?' and I told you 'Why!'"
Dora switched round to him and turned a very red little face, illuminated by eyes that flashed with anger, up to his.