“No,” he assented; “but how can I help it?”
“Oh, I don't mean for the time being; I mean generally speaking. I mean that I care for you because I know you know a great deal more than I do, and because I respect you. I know that everybody expects you to be something great, and I do, too.”
Bartley did not deny the justness of her opinions concerning himself, or the reasonableness of the general expectation, though he probably could not see the relation of these cold abstractions to the pleasure of sitting there with a pretty girl in that way. But he said nothing.
“Do you know,” she went on, turning her face prettily around toward him, but holding it a little way off, to secure attention as impersonal as might be under the circumstances, “what pleased me more than anything else you ever said to me?”
“No,” answered Bartley. “Something you got out of me when you were trying to make me tell you the difference between you and the other Equity girls?”
She laughed, in glad defiance of her own consciousness. “Well, I was trying to make you compliment me; I'm not going to deny it. But I must say I got my come-uppance: you didn't say a thing I cared for. But you did afterward. Don't you remember?”
“No. When?”
She hesitated a moment. “When you told me that my influence had—had—made you better, you know—”
“Oh!” said Bartley. “That! Well,” he added, carelessly, “it's every word true. Didn't you believe it?”
“I was just as glad as if I did; and it made me resolve never to do or say a thing that could lower your opinion of me; and then, you know, there at the door—it all seemed part of our trying to make each other better. But when father looked at me in that way, and asked me if we were engaged, I went down into the dust with shame. And it seemed to me that you had just been laughing at me, and amusing yourself with me, and I was so furious I didn't know what to do. Do you know what I wanted to do? I wanted to run downstairs to father, and tell him what you had said, and ask him if he believed you had ever liked any other girl.” She paused a little, but he did not answer, and she continued. “But now I'm glad I didn't. And I shall never ask you that, and I shall not care for anything that you—that's happened before to-day. It's all right. And you do think I shall always try to make you good and happy, don't you?”