"_If_ he did not! You know he did not." "He would not tell me so," said Dorothy, with her stubbornness of meekness, and her blue eyes met Madelon's, although there were tears welling up in them.
"Tell you so!" cried Madelon.

"What are you made of, Dorothy Fair ?" "He would not," repeated Dorothy.

"If he _was_ innocent, why should he not have told me if he loved me ?" Madelon looked at her.

"You don't love him!" she cried out, sharply.
"You don't love him, and that's why.

You don't love him, Dorothy Fair!" Dorothy flushed red and drew herself up with gentle stiffness.