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Freeman, Mary Eleanor Wilkins, 1852-1930

"Pembroke A Novel"

"
"I--was coming up--to your--house," Rose faltered; she could hardly
get her breath to speak.
"Why didn't you come, then?" demanded Charlotte. "What made you go to
Barney Thayer's?"
"I didn't," said Rose, in feeble self-defence. "He was out in the
road--I--just stopped to--speak to him--"
"You were coming out of his yard," Charlotte said, pitilessly. "You
followed him in there--I saw you. Shame on you!"
"Oh, Charlotte, I haven't done anything out of the way," pleaded
Rose, weakly.
"You have tried your best to get Barney Thayer all the time you have
been pretending to be such a good friend to me. I don't know what you
call out of the way."
"Charlotte, don't--I haven't."
"Yes, you have. I am going to tell you, once for all, what I think of
you. You've been a false friend to me; and now when Barney don't
notice you, you follow him up as no girl that thought anything of
herself would. And you don't even care anything for him; you haven't
even that for an excuse."
"You don't know but what I do!" Rose cried out, desperately.
"Yes, I do know. If anybody else came along, you'd care for him just
the same."
"I shouldn't--Charlotte, I should never have thought of Barney if
he--hadn't left you, you know I shouldn't."
"That's no excuse," said Charlotte, sternly.
"You said yourself he would never come back to you," said Rose.


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