'Admit that you were wrong about the ring. Have I not convinced you that
you were wrong?'

Emily did not answer. But at the end of a long silence, in which she had
been pursuing a different train of thought, she said, 'Then you mean that
he has never asked you to marry him?'

The directness of the question took Julia by surprise, and, falsehood being
unnatural to her, she hesitated, hardly knowing what to answer. Her
hesitation was only momentary; but in that moment there came up such a wave
of pity for the grief-stricken girl that she lied for pity's sake, 'No, he
never asked me to marry him. I assure you that he never did. If you do not
believe me----' As she was about to say, 'I will swear it if you like,' an
irresponsible sensation of pride in her ownership of his love surged up
through her, overwhelming her will, and she ended the sentence, 'I am very
sorry, but I cannot help it.'

The words were still well enough; it was in the accent that the truth
transpired. And then yielding still further to the force which had
subjugated her will, she said--

'I admit that we have talked about a great many things.' (Again she strove
not to speak, but the words rose red-hot to her lips.) 'He has said that he
would like to marry, but I should not think of accepting----'

'Then it is just as I thought!' Emily cried; 'he wants to get rid of me!'

Julia was shocked and surprised at the depth of disgraceful vanity and
cowardice which special circumstances had brought within her consciousness.
The Julia Bentley of the last few moments was not the Julia Bentley she was