"If you ask the question, I must answer it," he replied. "Yes, I do find
you changed."
She pulled up another tuft of grass. "I suppose you can guess the
reason?" she said.
The captain was wisely silent. He only answered by a bow.
"I have lost all care for myself," she went on, tearing faster and
faster at the tufts of grass. "Saying that is not saying much, perhaps,
but it may help you to understand me. There are things I would have died
sooner than do at one time--things it would have turned me cold to think
of. I don't care now whether I do them or not. I am nothing to myself; I
am no more interested in myself than I am in these handfuls o f grass.
I suppose I have lost something. What is it? Heart? Conscience? I don't
know. Do you? W hat nonsense I am talking! Who cares what I have lost?
It has gone; and there's an end of it. I suppose my outside is the best
side of me--and that's left, at any rate. I have not lost my good looks,
have I? There! there! never mind answering; don't trouble yourself to
pay me compliments. I have been admired enough to-day. First the sailor,
and then Mr. Noel Vanstone--enough for any woman's vanity, surely! Have
I any right to call myself a woman? Perhaps not: I am only a girl in
my teens.
Pages:
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552