If you said outright what you were thinking of me, I could bear it better." "But my thoughts of you.

They are----" He pauses.

What _are_ they?
What are his thoughts of her at all hours, all seasons?
"They are always kind," says he, lamely, in a low tone, looking at the carpet.
That downward glance condemns him in her eyes--to her it is but a token of his guilt towards her.
"They are _not!"_ says she, with a little stamp of her foot that makes the professor jump.

"You think of me as a cruel, wicked, worldly girl, who would marry _anyone_ to gain position." Here her fury dies away.

It is overcome by something stronger.