“I have already granted that, and I am eating humble pie in asking for an explanation.” “What did you say of me?” Angela asked, after a silence. “I said you were a coquette. Remember that I am simply historical.” She got up and stood in front of the fire, having her hand on the chimney-piece and looking down at the blaze. For some moments she remained there. Bernard could not see her face. “I said you were a dangerous woman to marry,” he went on deliberately. “I said it because I thought it. I gave Gordon an opinion about you--it was a very unfavorable one. I could n’t make you out--I thought you were playing a double part. I believed that you were ready to marry him, and yet I saw--I thought I saw--” and Bernard paused again. “What did you see?” and Angela turned toward him. “That you were encouraging me--playing with me.” “And you did n’t like that?” “I liked it immensely--for myself! But did n’t like it for Gordon; and I must do myself the justice to say that I thought more of him than of myself.” “You were an excellent friend,” said Angela, simply. “I believe I was. And I am so still,” Bernard added. She shook her head sadly. “Poor Mr. Wright!” “He is a dear good fellow,” said Bernard. “Thoroughly good, and dear, doubtless to his wife, the affectionate Blanche.” “You don’t like him--you don’t like her,” said Bernard. “Those are two very different matters. I am very sorry for Mr. Wright.” “You need n’t be that. He is doing very well.” “So you have already informed me. But I am sorry for him, all the same.” “That does n’t answer my question,” Bernard exclaimed, with a certain irritation. “What part were you playing?” “What part do you think?” “Have n’t I told you I gave it up, long ago?” Angela stood with her back to the fire, looking at him; her hands were locked behind her. “Did it ever strike you that my position at Baden was a charming one?--knowing that I had been handed over to you to be put under the microscope--like an insect with a pin stuck through it!” “How in the world did you know it? I thought we were particularly careful.” “How can a woman help knowing such a thing? She guesses it--she discovers it by instinct; especially if she be a proud woman.” “Ah,” said Bernard, “if pride is a source of information, you must be a prodigy of knowledge!” “I don’t know that you are particularly humble!” the girl retorted. “The meekest and most submissive of her sex would not have consented to have such a bargain as that made about her--such a trick played upon her!” “My dearest Angela, it was no bargain--no trick!” Bernard interposed. “It was a clumsy trick--it was a bad bargain!” she declared. “At any rate I hated it--I hated the idea of your pretending to pass judgment upon me; of your having come to Baden for the purpose. It was as if Mr. Wright had been buying a horse and you had undertaken to put me through my paces!” “I undertook nothing--I declined to undertake.”