Certainly it was not likely that more young gentlemen would come their way. One Sunday evening, the girl, being alone with Miss Kennedy, took courage and dared to speak to her.
In fact, it was Angela herself who began the talk.
"Let us talk, Nelly," she began; "we are quite alone. Tell me, my dear, what is on your mind?"
"Nothing," said Nelly.
"Yes there is something—tell me what it is."
"Oh, Miss Kennedy, I cannot tell you. It would be rudeness to speak of it."
"There can be no rudeness, Nelly, between you and me. Tell me what you are thinking."
Angela knew already what was in her mind, but after the fashion of her sex she dissembled. The brutality of truth among the male sex is sometimes very painful; and yet we are so proud, some of us, of our earnest attachment to truth.
"Oh, Miss Kennedy, can you not see that he is suffering?"
"Nelly!" but she was not displeased.