Julian looked surprised.
“Care about what?” he asked, suspiciously.
“But I explained it all in my note,” answered Holly, sinking back against the pillar. “I thought you’d understand, Julian.”
“Are you talking about this?” he asked, contemptuously, tapping the letter against the edge of the step. “Do you mean me to believe that you were in earnest?”
“Yes, quite in earnest,” she answered, gently.
“Shucks!” said Julian. But there was a tone of uneasiness in his contempt. “What have I done, Holly? If it’s because I haven’t been getting over here to see you very often, I want you to understand that I’m a pretty busy man these days. Thompson’s been getting me to do more and more of his work. Why, he never takes a night call any more himself; passes it over to me every time. And I can tell you that that sort of thing is no fun, Holly. Besides,”—he gained reassurance from his own defence—“you didn’t seem very particular about seeing me the last time I was here. I reckoned that maybe you and the Yankee were getting on pretty well without me.”
“It isn’t that,” said Holly. “I—I told you in the letter, Julian. Didn’t you read it?”
“Of course I read it, but I couldn’t understand it. You said you’d made a mistake, and a lot of foolishness like that, and had decided you couldn’t marry me. Wasn’t that it?”
“Yes, that was it—in a way,” answered Holly. “Well, I mean it, Julian.”