"I may ask
you again, may I not?" and then she looked so pitiful, with the tears
rolling from her frightened eyes and her hand trembling in mine, that
I thought I would put my arm around her--to comfort her, you know.
"Poor child!" I said, drawing her to me as they do in the theatre, "you
don't know your own heart: rest here."
I wish you had seen her!--I _wish_ you had seen her! She drew herself
from me quivering with indignation, her eyes% sparkled, and she was in
such a rage that she could hardly speak, but after an effort she broke
forth in a torrent of words: "I have an utter contempt for you, and I
will bear this no longer. You think you are irresistible--that all the
girls are in love with you--that your wealth buys you impunity--that
your position will excuse your rudeness--and that you can dispense
with politeness because your name is Highrank! I would like to box
your ears. I despise you and your behavior so thoroughly that were you
a hundred times in earnest in asking me to marry you, I would refuse
you a hundred times!" Then she rushed past me, and I was so astonished
that I did not try to prevent her.
The idea of her refusing _me_, and in such a manner! No wonder if she
should end badly. Mrs. Stunner was right. However, I am glad she _did_
refuse me, for she must certainly be a little wrong in her head.
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