“I do not care,” she said, biting the rose-leaf lower lip. “You may whisper any treason you please to any h-heartless woman who snares your f-fancy.”
“You do not truly care?”
“I have said it. No, I do not care! Court whom you please! But if you do, my faith in man is dead, and that’s flat!”
“What!”
“Certainly� . After your burning vows so lately made to me. But men have no shame. I know that much.”
“But,” said I, bewildered, “you say that you care nothing for my vows!”
“Did I say so?”
“Yes — you —