despicable, so unmanly as you could exist. I do not know why you have
done this, perhaps it is your idea of humour."

"Believe me--" he stammered, yet could say no more; and then a sense of
anger, of outraged honesty, came to him. Of course he had been foolish,
yet he had been misled. To hear this girl speak, one would think that he
had deliberately set to work to annoy and insult her, she of whose
existence he had not even known.

"My poverty," she said, and flung her head back as she spoke, "has made
me the butt, the object for the insolence and insult of men like
yourself, men who would not dare insult a girl who had friends to
protect her."

"You are ungenerous!" he said hotly.

She seemed to start a little. She looked at him, and her beautiful eyes
narrowed. Then, without another word, she turned towards the door.

The scene was over, yet he felt no relief.

"Miss Meredyth!"

She did not hear, or affected not to. She turned the handle of the door,
but hesitated for a moment. She looked back at him, contempt in her
gaze.

"You are ungenerous," he said again. He had not meant to say it; he had
to say something, and it seemed to him that her anger against him was
almost unreasonable.