"W-what!" she faltered, bewildered.
"I don't suppose you do realise it. People generally feel toward me as you feel; it has always been the fashion to tolerate me. It is a legend that I am thick-skinned and stupidly slow to take offence. I am not offended now.... Because I could not be with you.... But I am tired of it, and I thought it better that you should know it—after all these years."
Utterly confounded, she leaned back, both hands tightening on the hand-rail behind her, and as she comprehended the passionless reproof, a stinging flush deepened over her pretty face.
"Had you anything else to say to me?" he asked, without embarrassment.
"N-no."
"Then may I take my departure?"
She lifted her startled blue eyes and regarded him with a new and intense curiosity.
"Have I, by my manner or speech, ever really hurt you?" she asked. "Because I haven't meant to."
He started to reply, hesitated, shook his head, and his pleasant, kindly smile fascinated her.
"You haven't intended to," he said. "It's all right, Rosalie——"