“Never mind,” said Georgia, growing rather red; “it was absurd and unreasonable of me. I know you must have thought that I wanted you to be killed.”
“But why was it?”
“I suppose you will give me no peace until I tell you. It was because I couldn’t bear to think you cared so little about me as to let him go instead.”
“I wish I had gone!” said Dick, enviously.
“Then you would probably have been killed, and the treaty would not have been signed, and we should never have known what we know now—about our caring for each other, I mean. I might have guessed the truth when I heard that you had gone, but I could never have been sure; it might only have been a way of taking a noble revenge on me, you know. And you would have sacrificed yourself and perhaps even died, believing all the time that I detested you. I know you deserved it, but still, I should have been sorry. No, things are much better as they are. It was very silly of me to think and say what I did.”
“I like you to be silly about me.”
“And you don’t like me under other circumstances? I hope I am not always silly.”
“I don’t care about circumstances, or wisdom, or foolishness, or anything. I love you because you are yourself.”
“Dick, you are incorrigible!” There was a slight soreness in Georgia’s tone. It was undeniable that Dick was lacking in tact.
“Now I have gone and hurt your feelings again! I wish I wasn’t such a blundering idiot.”