"You won't," said Brook, in a lower tone, and almost angrily. "You've made up your mind against me, on account of something you've guessed at, and you won't tell me what it is, so I can't possibly defend myself. I haven't the least idea what it can be. I never did anything particularly bad, I believe, and I never did anything I should be ashamed of owning. I don't like to say that sort of thing, you know, about myself, but you drive me to it. It isn't fair. Upon my word, it's not fair play. You tell a man he's a bad lot, like that, in the air, and then you refuse to say why you think so. Or else the whole thing is a sort of joke you've invented--if it is, it's awfully one-sided, it seems to me." "Do you really think me capable of anything so silly?" asked Clare. "No, I don't. That makes it all the worse, because it proves that you have--or think you have--something against me. I don't know much about law, but it strikes me as something tremendously like libel. Don't you think so yourself?" "Oh no! Indeed I don't. Libel means saying things against people, doesn't it? I haven't done that--" "Indeed you have! I mean, I beg your pardon for contradicting you like that--" "Rather flatly," observed Clare, as they turned in their walk, and their eyes met. "Well, I'm sorry, but since we are talking about it, I've got to say what I think. After all, I'm the person attacked. I have a right to defend myself." "I haven't attacked you," answered the young girl, gravely. "I won't be rude, if I can help it," said Brook, half roughly. "But I asked you if you disliked me for something I had done or said, and you couldn't deny it. That means that I have done or said something bad enough to make you say that you will never be my friend--and that must be something very bad indeed." "Then you think I'm not squeamish? It would have to be something very, very bad." "Yes." "Thank you. Well, I thought it very bad. Anybody would, I should fancy." "I never did anything very, very bad, so you must be mistaken," answered Johnstone, exasperated. Clare said nothing, but walked along with her head rather high, looking straight before her. It had all happened before her eyes, on the very ground under her feet, on that platform. Johnstone knew that he had spoken roughly. "I say," he began, "was I rude? I'm awfully sorry." Clare stopped and stood still. "Mr. Johnstone, we sha'n't agree. I will never tell you, and you will never be satisfied unless I do. So it's a dead-lock." "You are horribly unjust," answered Brook, very much in earnest, and fixing his bright eyes on hers. "You seem to take a delight in tormenting me with this imaginary secret. After all, if it's something you saw me do, or heard me say, I must know of it and remember it, so there's no earthly reason why we shouldn't discuss it." There was again that fascination in his eyes, and she felt herself yielding. "I'll say one thing," she said. "I wish you hadn't done it!"