"Confess your faults one to another, then," said he. "What is the use of having friends?"
"You would not be pleased to hear of my faults."
I could see, even in the dim light, the flash of his eye as it looked into mine.
"How many, Daisy?"
"Anger," I said; - "and resentment; and - self-will."
"What raised the anger?" said he; a different tone coming into his own voice.
"Preston. His way of talking."
"About me?"
"Yes. I cannot get over it."
And I thought I should have broken down at that minute. My fan-play ceased. Christian held my hand very fast, and after a few minutes began again -