“You are a terrible woman, Miss Anne! The witches were a trifle to you!”
“They had the insight of wickedness. I have the sagacity of love. Rose is very, very dear to me.”
“Do you think it possible—”
“That Rose should care for you? Yes. It is possible. But, frankly, yours is a three weeks’ acquaintance, ripened by unusual events. Neither she nor we know you as we should know a man to whom—”
“Let me interrupt you. I am thinking of the future. One does not win a woman like Miss Lyndsay in a day.”
“You are right. I think, were I you, I would assist the future to take care of itself.”
“Thank you. I should like, much as I care for her, to have her get quite away from any sense of obligation to me. I almost wish she could entirely forget it. Any man could have done the little I did, and, after all, you are quite out of my debt.”
“No one can pay another’s debts. The heart has no clearing-house. Rose must know that. You feel, as I do, that no manly nature should want to be taken for granted, as altogether what is best for life, just on the chances of a minute of decisive action. You want her to know you in many relations, and to know herself also. Isn’t that so?”
“It could not be better stated.”
“If you had saved her life a dozen times, she would still reflect before she said ‘yes,’ and be the more apt to hesitate because of the obligation. It is a strong nature.”