"Nothing," I said quietly.
"Do you mean when they fall in love with you?" she asked.
"They don't. Some have plagued me to delight in my confusion."
"Like Rosamund Barry?"
I was silent.
"She," observed Elsin musingly, "was mad about you. No, you need not laugh or shrug impatiently—I know, Carus; she was mad to have you love her! Do you think I have neither eyes nor ears? But you treated her no whit better than you treated me. That I am certain of—did you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did you?"
"Did I do what?"
"Treat Rosamund Barry kinder than you did me?"