“You!”
“And that I wanted to be friends,” he added candidly.
Was the man mad? Did he realize nothing? Was he too thick of skin even to see?
“Friends! You and I?” The words ought to have scorched him, pachyderm though he was.
“I thought you’d give me a chance—a sort of chance.”
She stopped short on the avenue.
“You did?”
She had not been mistaken. The dog-cart had rounded the far-off curve and was coming toward them. And the man went on talking.
“You’ve felt every minute that I was in a place that didn’t belong to me. You know that if the man that it did belong to was here, you’d be here with him. You felt as if I’d robbed him of it—and I’d robbed you. It was your home—yours. You hated me too much to think of anything else. Suppose—suppose there was a way I could give it back to you—make it your home again?”
His voice dropped and was rather unsteady. The fool, the gross, brutal, vulgar, hopeless fool! He thought this was the way to approach her, to lead her to listen to his proposal of marriage! Not for a second did she guess that they were talking at cross-purposes. She did not know that as he kept himself steady under her contemptuousness he was thinking that Ann would have to own that he had been up against it hard and plenty while the thing was going on.