have an explanation. Why have you formed such a bad opinion of me?"

"How do you know I have done so?" I tried to fence and fight with her,
but in vain.

"I cannot be mistaken. I myself heard you tell my maid that you wished
to have nothing to say to us, that we were not your sort. Well! why is
that? How do I differ from the rest of--your world, let us call it?"

"You do not, as far as I can see. At least you ought to hold your own
anywhere, in any society, the very best."

"And yet I'm not 'your sort.' Am I a humbug, an impostor, an
adventuress, a puppet and play-actress? Or is it that I have
forfeited my right, my rank of gentlewoman, my position in the world,
your world?"

I was silent, moodily, obstinately silent. She had hit the blot, and
could put but one interpretation upon it. I saw she guessed I knew
something. Not how much, perhaps, but something to her discredit. She
still was not satisfied; she would penetrate my reserve, overcome my
reticence, have it out of me willy nilly, whether I would or no.

"You cannot surely refuse me? I have my reasons for desiring to know
the very worst."

"Why drive me to that?" I schooled myself to seem hard and
uncompromising. I felt I was weakening under the subtle charm of her
presence, and the pretty pleading of her violet eyes; but I was still
resolute not to give way.