I thought I would put my arm around her--to comfort her, you know.
"Poor child!" I said, drawing her to me as they do in the theatre, "you
don't know your own heart: rest here."

I wish you had seen her!--I _wish_ you had seen her! She drew herself
from me quivering with indignation, her eyes% sparkled, and she was in
such a rage that she could hardly speak, but after an effort she broke
forth in a torrent of words: "I have an utter contempt for you, and I
will bear this no longer. You think you are irresistible--that all the
girls are in love with you--that your wealth buys you impunity--that
your position will excuse your rudeness--and that you can dispense
with politeness because your name is Highrank! I would like to box
your ears. I despise you and your behavior so thoroughly that were you
a hundred times in earnest in asking me to marry you, I would refuse
you a hundred times!" Then she rushed past me, and I was so astonished
that I did not try to prevent her.

The idea of her refusing _me_, and in such a manner! No wonder if she
should end badly. Mrs. Stunner was right. However, I am glad she _did_
refuse me, for she must certainly be a little wrong in her head.
Wonder if her ancestors were insane or anything. She was deuced
handsome when she got angry. Never saw a woman angry at me before:
something very queer about her. Had a contempt for me, too! Why should
she have that? I don't understand it. Said I was conceited--that I
thought all the girls would marry me. And so they would, all but
herself; and that shows there is something odd about her--not at all
like any other woman. Deuced glad she did not take me at my word.
Queerest thing! She cried when I put my arm around her: never knew a
woman would cry at _that_ before. Little Eva wouldn't. I believe I
like tender women best--at one time I thought they were not nice. What