"I think I was mistaken." "And you didn't mind in the least how much I was hurt, as long as she wasn't," said Horace.
"Yes, I did." "I must say it did not have that appearance." Rose wept softly against his rough coat-sleeve.

"I wanted to do what was right, and she looked so dreadfully; and I didn't want to be selfish," she sobbed.
Horace looked down at her, and his face softened.

"Oh Rose," he said, "you are all alike, you women.

When it comes to a question of right or wrong, you will all lay your best-beloved on the altar of sacrifice.

Your logic is all wrong, dear.