She did not ask him what the case was, but he was launched now, and he pressed on. “I am the man who has made a fool of himself—”
“Oh!”
“And you can help me out if you will. Alma, I wish you could see me as I really am.”
“Do you, Mr. Beacon? Perhaps I do.”
“No; you don't. You formulated me in a certain way, and you won't allow for the change that takes place in every one. You have changed; why shouldn't I?”
“Has this to do with your having made a fool of yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Oh! Then I don't see how you have changed.”
She laughed, and he too, ruefully. “You're cruel. Not but what I deserve your mockery. But the change was not from the capacity of making a fool of myself. I suppose I shall always do that more or less—unless you help me. Alma! Why can't you have a little compassion? You know that I must always love you.”
“Nothing makes me doubt that like your saying it, Mr. Beaton. But now you've broken your word—”