I never loved you; I've no faith
in love. I never loved you at all, and--you must have seen, lately, that I
have changed--that I've become a very--a very mercenary woman. I can't
afford to marry a poor man."
My lips quivered, for this was the cruelest lie of all; I have changed,
but I'm not money loving. And I couldn't deceive him. He smiled queerly,
but he must have thought time his ally, for he only said:--
"Money can buy you nothing; you might leave gewgaws to other women. But
you are less mercenary than you think yourself; and you will always know
that I love you; let it rest with that, for now."
So he went away the second time, leaving me with my hands clenched and my
teeth set--so fierce had been my fight to seem composed. As I sank
breathless into a chair, and my tense fingers relaxed, out from my right
hand rolled the little opal ring. I hadn't returned it, after all; had
been gripping it all the time, unknowing. At sight of it, I burst into
hysterical laughter.
And that madly merry laughter is the end. I should go crazy if I yielded
to love that I can't return, and I should despise him if he accepted.
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