"Some day you'll thank me," she said.

"Very possibly," I returned. "Nobody knows what may not happen.
It's conceivable, of course, I might go down on my bended knees,
but really, from the way I feel at this moment, I do not think
it's likely."

"You want to punish me for liking you," she said.

"Teresa," I said, "I have told you already that you are right. You
insist on saving me from a humiliating position. I respect your
courage and your straightforwardness. You remind me of an ancient
Spartan having it out with a silly ass of a stranger who took
advantage of her parents' good-nature. I am as little vain, I
think, as any man, and as free from pettiness and idiotic pride--
but you mustn't ask the impossible. You mustn't expect the whipped
dog to come back. When I go it will be for ever."

"Then go," she said, and looked me straight in the eyes.

"I have only one thing to ask," I said. "Smooth it over to your
father and mother. I am very fond of your father and mother,
Teresa; I don't want them to think I've acted badly, or that I
have ceased to care for them. Tell them the necessary lies, you
know."

"I will tell them," she said.

"Then good-bye," I said, rising. "I suppose I am acting like a