You don't know how sorry I am, because we have been such old
friends--because I really did care for you as a friend; it's a proof of
it, that there is no other man in the world I could talk to like this. I
think, too, Van, that was the only way you cared for me, just as a good
friend--except perhaps at first, when we first knew each other. You know
yourself that is so. We really haven't loved each other at all for a
long time, and now we have found it out before it was too late. And even
if everything were different, Van, don't you know how it is with girls?
They really love the man who loves them the most. Half the time they're
just in love with being loved. That's the way most girls love nowadays,
and you know yourself, Van, that Dolly Haight really loves me more than
you do." She gathered up her books and went on after a pause,
straightening up, ready to go: "If I should let myself think of what you
have done, I feel--as if--as if--why, dreadful--I--that I should hate
you, loathe you; but I try not to do that. I have been thinking it all
over since the other night.
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