"
But the girl was very bitter. The old impatience and intolerance
flashed suddenly in her face.
Philip fell silent for an instant. Then he shot his final barb with
deliberate intention--not so much to reproach--though there was utter
honesty and loyalty to Carl in what he said--but more to touch the
girl's tragedy with something sharp enough to pierce her morbidness.
"Carl blames no one but himself," he said gently. "But--but if you had
been a little kinder, Diane--"
"Philip!" He had hurt and knew it.
"Yes, I know!" said Philip quickly, "but you're not going to
misunderstand, I'm sure. Let me say it with all gentleness and without
reproach. If you could have forgotten his mother's history and made
him feel that he was not quite alone--that there was some one to whom
his careless whims made a difference! But you were a little scornful
and indifferent. I wonder if you'll believe that he can tell you each
separate moment in his life when you were kind to him."
"I too was alone and lonely!" defended the girl. "And the call of the
forest had made me most unhappy."
"Yes. But Carl was not mocking any sensitive spot in your life--"
"No--I was cruel--cruel!"
"I remember in college," said Philip, "he talked so much of his
beautiful cousin, and the rest of us were wild to see her.
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