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"Why did you, Molly? It was a mistake"

"I wonder--Well, it was all my fault"

"No; it was Stanistreet's He knehat he was about"

"It was mine I liked him"

"What did you see to like in him?" (He really had some curiosity on that

point) "I liked him because he was your friend--the best friend you ever had

I hated the other men that used to come And when you were away I felt

somehow as if--as if--he was all that was left of you But that was

afterwards I think I liked him first of all because he liked you"

"How do you knoas me he liked?"

"Oh, it was; I know Whatever other people thought, he always

understood Do you see? We used to talk about you, every day I think,

till just the last--and then, he knehat I was thinking Then he was

sorry when baby died I can never forget that"

(Inconceivable! Had she never for an instant understood? Ah, well, if

he had been so transfigured in her sight, she ht well idealize

Stanistreet) She went on impetuously, with inextricable confusion of persons and

events "Nevill--I wasn't kind to him They said I didn't care--and

I did--I did! It nearly broke my heart Only I was afraid you'd think I

loved him better than you, and so--I didn't take any notice of hiht he wouldn't ht

some day I could tell him Oh, Nevill--do you think he minded?"