Mr. Richards: “Do you acknowledge it now?”
Miss Galbraith: “Why, how can I, when I haven’t been rash? What have I been rash”—
Mr. Richards: “About the cigar-case, for example.”
Miss Galbraith: “Oh! that! That was a great while ago! I thought you meant something quite recent.” A sound as of the approaching tram is heard in the distance. She gives a start, and then leaves her chair again for one a little nearer his. “I thought perhaps you meant about—last night.”
Mr. Richards: “Well.”
Miss Galbraith, very judicially: “I don’t think it was rash, exactly. No, not rash. It might not have been very kind not to—to—trust you more, when I knew that you didn’t mean anything; but—No, I took the only course I could. Nobody could have done differently under the circumstances. But if I caused you any pain, I’m very sorry; oh, yes, very sorry indeed. But I was not precipitate, and I know I did right. At least I tried to act for the best. Don’t you believe I did?”
Mr. Richards: “Why, if you have no doubt upon the subject, my opinion is of no consequence.”
Miss Galbraith: “Yes. But what do you think? If you think differently, and can make me see it differently, oughtn’t you to do so?”
Mr. Richards: “I don’t see why. As you say, all is over between us.”
Miss Galbraith: “Yes.” After a pause, “I should suppose you would care enough for yourself to wish me to look at the matter from the right point of view.”