"I will not cry!" she said in a low voice.
"Somebody ought to murder me; I ought to have thought--personalities _are_ hideous----" "Don't! It wasn't that." "I ought to be shot----" "Ah, please don't say that," she said, shuddering; "please don't, not even as a joke--after last night." "But I ought to be for hurting you, indeed----" She laughed sadly, again.

"It wasn't that.

I don't care what you call me.

I am small.

You'll try to forgive me for being such a baby?
I didn't mean anything I said.