Better to be drenched and say what I really thought than stay dry and forfeit my self-respect. My self-respect? I was no more than halfway across the park before my temper cooled enough for me to wonder why I’d just given two old acquaintances a dressing-down in Ben’s defense after he had treated me like a mere plaything. Why should I publicly declare my allegiance to a man who’d shown no such allegiance to me? I might have kept my mouth shut and let the Stewarts think what they liked. I might even have agreed with them and shown them Ben meant nothing to me. But I hadn’t. I couldn’t. A wet drop slid down one cheek. I hoped it was only the rain. There was clearly something wrong with me, for I was evidently still in love with Ben, despite the heartless way he’d treated me. I supposed that made me stupid and foolish and weak, and everyone was bound to see it. I’d be gossiped about and tittered over, and deservedly so. Yet I couldn’t help myself.
