"The word is your own. He 's not an honest man."
She slowly rose from her little bench, gathering her work into the skirt of her dress. "And, doubting of his honesty, you have let him take up his abode here, you have let him become dear to me?"
She was making him ten times a fool! "Why, if you liked him," he said. "When did I ever refuse you anything?"
There came upon Nora a sudden unpitying sense that Roger was ridiculous. "Honest or not honest," she said with vehemence, "I do like him. Cousin or no cousin, he is my friend."
"Very good. But I warn you. I don't enjoy talking to you thus. Only let me tell you, once for all, that your cousin, your friend—your—whatever he is!"—He faltered an instant; Nora's eyes were fixed on him. "That he disgusts me!"
"You are extremely unjust. You have taken no trouble to know him. You have treated him from the first with small civility!"
"Was the trouble to be all mine? Civility! he never missed it; he does n't know what it means."
"He knows more than you think. But we must talk no more about him." She rolled together her canvas and reels; and then suddenly, with passionate inconsequence, "Poor, poor George!" she cried.
Roger watched her a moment; then he said bitterly, "You disappoint me."
"You must have formed great hopes of me!" she answered.
"I confess I had."
