"Good-bye," she said, holding out her hand.
As I took it our eyes met, and she drew her hand back. It was hard, under the circumstances, not to look something more than the best of friends.
"I suppose," she said, "that you refused to take that money because—because it would have hurt your self-respect."
"I think so," I answered.
"Well," she went on, slowly, and half turning away, "girls have their self-respect too."
"What manner of man must you think I am?" I asked, understanding a little what she meant, but refusing to take advantage of what I thought the little girl's mistaken chivalry.
"And what manner of girl must you think me?" she replied, and burst out crying.
"Don't think I don't understand and don't appreciate," I said, lamely.
"Go away, go away," she sobbed.
"I can't go," I said, "till I have explained. I don't quite know how to, but our friendship began with bills of exchange, and don't you think a debtor would sometimes prefer not to have an acceptance for honour when he cannot pay his debts?"