I can say no more; if I could I would.
There's something I should like to tell you, but I mustn't." He put the
apple down.
"About the other woman, I suppose," she said coldly, the hot indignation
gone from her lips.
He looked her steadfastly in the eyes. "If you won't trust me--if you
won't trust me--"
"I've always trusted you," she replied, "but I don't trust you now. Don't
you understand that a good girl hates conduct like yours?"
Suddenly with anger he turned upon her. "Yes, I understand everything,
but you don't understand. Why won't you believe that the reason I won't
tell you my trouble is that it's best you shouldn't know? You're a young
girl; you don't know life; you haven't seen it as I've seen it--in the
sewage, in the ditch, on the road, on the mountain and in the bog. I want
you to keep faith with your old friend who doesn't care what the rest of
the world thinks, but who wants your confidence. Trust me--don't condemn
me. Believe me, I haven't been wanton. Won't you trust me?"
The spirit of egotism was alive in her. She knew how much she had denied
herself in the past months. She did not know whether she loved him, but
injured pride tortured her. Except in a dance and in sports at a picnic
or recreation-ground no man had ever put his arms around her.
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