"I heard him tell that months ago," snapped Moore.

"You did! Was that--why?" she whispered.

"It was," he answered, ringingly.

"But that was no reason for you to be--be--to stay away from me," she
declared, with rising spirit.

He laughed shortly.

"Wils, didn't you like me any more after dad said that?" she queried.

"Columbine, a girl nineteen years and about to--to get married--ought
not be a fool," he replied, with sarcasm.

"I'm not a fool," she rejoined, hotly.

"You ask fool questions."

"Well, you _didn't_ like me afterward or you'd never have mistreated
me."

"If you say I mistreated you--you say what's untrue," he replied, just
as hotly.

They had never been so near a quarrel before. Columbine experienced a
sensation new to her--a commingling of fear, heat, and pang, it seemed,
all in one throb. Wilson was hurting her. A quiver ran all over her,
along her veins, swelling and tingling.