I judged him to be kind, generous, honest—a man a woman might be very fond of"
"What sort of a woman? My sort?"
"I didn't argue about it. I accepted it. There it was. I believed you had decided to marry him. I knew that if you had done so, you must have had good reasons for it. I was prepared to believe you were acting for . . . for the best."
"What else was going on in your mind as you sat there? You were very quiet."
"I would rather not say."
"You understand that I am not going to marry him?"
"I do, and I—selfishly and unreasonably—I can't help being thankful. That's only human, I suppose. But even if I had known it that day, I think I would have made up my mind to come here just the same."
"But why?"
"I think you must know why."
Very gently and quietly said. One might speak so to a child who asks foolish and tactless questions. Oh, Claire! It's all very well, thought Judy, to say, have it out with him, but what would you do yourself, if you were gently put aside like that, and chidden a little? "I think you must know why." As if to say, "And now let's hear
