All through those two years I had hugged the fond hope that sometime I might stumble across her in a mild mood and make matters up . There was no such thing as seeking her out or writing to her , since she had icily forbidden me to do so , and Jane had a most detestable habit -- in a woman -- of meaning what she said . But the deity I had invoked was the god of chance -- and this was how he had answered my prayers . I was eating my dinner beside Jane , who supposed me to be Clark Oliver ! What should I do ? Confess the truth and plead my cause while she had to sit beside me ? That would never do . Someone might overhear us . And , in any case , it would be no passport to Jane 's favor that I was a guest in the house under false pretences . She would be certain to disapprove strongly . It was a maddening situation . Jane , who was calmly eating soup -- she was the only woman I had ever seen who could eat soup and look like a goddess at the same time -- glanced around and caught me studying her profile . I thought she blushed slightly and I raged inwardly to think that blush was meant for Clark Oliver -- Clark Oliver who had told me he thought Jane was smitten on him ! Jane ! On him ! `` Do you know , Mr. Oliver , '' said Jane slowly , `` that you are startlingly like a -- a person I used to know ? When I first saw you the other night I took you for him . '' A person you used to know ! Oh , Jane , that was the most unkindest cut of all . `` My cousin , Elliott Cameron , I suppose ? ''
I XXXXX as indifferently as I could .
Confess answered blushed disapprove invoked meaning plead sit thought writing