"Well?" she said, domineering.
"My dear cousin," I said, "I know all that you have in your mind. I
admit--I covet her. You can't make me more jealous than I am. She's
clean and sweet--it is marvellous how the God of the rest of the world
can have made a thing so brave and honest and wonderful. She's better
than flowers. But I think I'm going away to-night, nevertheless."
"You don't mean you're going to carry chivalry to the point of giving
that boy a chance--for he hasn't one while you're about."
"No. You see--I want to give Rachel a chance. You know as well as I
do--the things in my mind."
"That you've got to forget."
"That I don't forget."
"That you're bound in honor to forget. And who could help you better?"
"I'm going," I said and then, wrathfully, "If you think I want to use
Rachel as a sort of dressing--for my old sores----"