"I made an ass of myself."
She glanced at him quickly. "Why do you say that?"
"I don't know," he stammered confusedly. How could he tell her?
"A moment ago you seemed well pleased with what you'd done."
"Well, I guess I went too far. I wasn't very polite."
"You never are."
"I'm going to try to do better....No, I don't think it would be
wise for me to go and apologize to her."
She was looking at him strangely. "Why are you so anxious to
conciliate her?"
He saw what a break he had made, became all at once red and
inarticulate.
"What is she to you?" persisted the girl.
"Nothing at all," he blustered. "I don't care--THAT"--he snapped
his fingers--"for her opinion. I don't care if everybody in the
world is against our marrying. I want just you--only you."
"Obviously," said she with a dry laugh that was highly
disconcerting to him. "I certainly have no fortune--or hope of
one, so far as I know."
This so astounded, so disconcerted him that he forgot to conceal
it. "Why, I thought--your grandmother--that is--" He was
remembering, was stammering, was unable to finish.
"Go on," she urged, obviously enjoying his hot confusion.
He became suddenly angry.
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