And that is why I overlook your injustice to me now!" She sat up on the sofa's edge balanced forward between her arms, fingers nervously working at the silken edges of the upholstery.
"You ought never to have doubted my interest and affection," she said.
"In my heart I have not doubted yours--never--except to-night.

And it makes me perfectly wretched." "I did not mean--" "Yes, you did! There was something about you--your expression--when you saw me throwing roses at everybody--that hurt me--and you meant to." "With Querida's arm around you, did you expect me to smile ?" he asked, savagely.
"Was it _that_ ?" she demanded, astonished.
"What ?" "Querida's arm--" She hesitated, gazing straight into his eyes in utter amazement.
"It wasn't _that_ ?" she repeated.

"Was it ?...

You never cared about such petty things, did you?
_Did_ you?
_Do_ you care?
Because I never dreamed that you cared....

What has a little imprudence--a little silly mischief--to do with our friendship?
_Has_ it anything to do with it?
You've never said anything--and ...