"Oh, it's over now," she responded. "Let's talk of something else."
"I'd be glad to," Stanford replied, "but I can't seem to. I want to
know how you escaped. I won't ask you to tell me now, but I keep
thinking about it."
"I'm afraid I can't tell you much. I remember a tremendous crash, and
being thrown against Mr. Wynne"--
"Mr. Wynne?"
The tone showed Berenice that Stanford did not attach especial
importance to the question, but asked only from a natural curiosity.
Nevertheless she could not keep her voice from, hurrying a little as
she answered:--
"Mr. Wynne is a young clergyman who was in the seat next to mine. He's
a cousin of Mrs. Staggchase."
"Oh, a clergyman," Stanford echoed.
The tone seemed to her excited mood to be full of intolerable
superiority.
"He may be a clergyman," she retorted with unnecessary warmth, "but he
is a gentleman and a hero. He saved my life!"
"Oh, he did!"
The exclamation stung her beyond endurance. She sprang up with flashing
eyes.
"Mr. Stanford," she exclaimed, "I don't know what you mean to
insinuate, but you will please to remember that you are speaking of the
man that saved me, and of my grandmother's guest.
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