'I shall not stay here to be insulted,' she cried resentfully, bringing
Wentworth's thoughts back with a rush to London again. 'It is intolerable
that you should use such an expression to me. Playing with you indeed!'
'I had no intention of insulting you, Miss Brewster.'
'What is it but an insult to use such a phrase? It implies that I either
care for you, or----'
'And do you?'
'Do I what?'
'Do you care for me?'
Jennie shook out the lace fringes of her parasol; and smoothed them with
some precision. Her eyes were bent on what she was doing; consequently,
they did not meet those of her questioner.
'I care for you as a friend, of course,' she said at last, still giving
much attention to the parasol. 'If I had not looked on you as a friend, I
would not have come here to consult with you, would I?'
'No, I suppose not. Well, I am sorry I used the words that displeased
you, and now, if you will permit it, we will go on with the
consultation.'
'It wasn't a pretty thing to say.'
'I'm afraid I'm not good at saying pretty things.'
'You used to be.'
The parasol being arranged to her liking, she glanced up at him.
'Still, you said you were sorry, and that's all a man can say--or a
woman either, for that's what I said myself when I came in. Now, if you
will pick up those things from the floor--thanks--we will talk about
the mine.'
Wentworth seated himself again, and said;
'Well, what is it you wish to know about the mine?'
'Nothing at all.
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