“You think I was not fair once?”
“I didn't mean that, but you have changed.”
“For the better, Mr. Oakley?”
“Infinitely,” with blunt simplicity.
“You haven't changed a scrap. You are just as rude as you ever were.”
Dan cast a hurried glance from the window. “Constance, we won't have much more time to ourselves; we are almost home. Won't you tell me what I have come to hear—that you do care for me, and will be my wife? You know that I love you. But you mustn't send me from you a second time without hope.”
“I shouldn't think you would care about me now. I wouldn't care about you if you had been as unworthy as I have been,” her voice faltered. “I might have shown you that I, too, could be brave, but I let the opportunity pass, and now, when everyone is proud—”
“But I do care. I care a great deal, for I love you just as I have loved you from the very first.”
She put out both her hands.
“If you had only looked back when you left the house that day you told me you cared—”