She turned away from him again; a somewhat painful silence
ensued; and presently she broke it, speaking in a peculiarly gentle
voice, and not looking at him.
"I'm glad that you told me--at last. I'll be glad to remember that ...
and I'm always your friend. But don't you think that perhaps we'd better
finish our talk some other time?"
"No," said West. "No."
He pulled himself together, struggling desperately to throw off the
curious benumbing inertia that was settling down upon him. "You are
doing me an injustice. A most tremendous injustice. You have
misunderstood everything from the beginning. I must explain--"
"Don't you think that argument will only make it all so much worse?"
"Nothing could possibly be worse for me than to have you think of me and
speak to me in this way."
Obediently she sat down, her face still and sad; and West, pausing a
moment to marshal his thoughts into convincing form, launched forth upon
his defense.
From the first he felt that he did not make a success of it; was not
doing himself justice. Recent events, in the legislature and with
reference to Meachy T.
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