"Mr. Smith, I really do feel for you..."
Trenton Smith paused in his tracks, tilted his head to give her a glance. Then, as if finding it amusing, he curled his lips into a sneer and said with an indifferent and somewhat sarcastic tone, "I'm not sure what goes through the minds of you women. Was my rejection not clear enough or is it your overactive imagination that makes you think playing the damsel in distress will win a man's favor?"
Her unspoken confession was stifled once again by Trenton's remarks; Angela Banks's cheeks turned uncontrollably red. She clenched the armrests of her wheelchair tightly and mustered her strength to say, "As a gentleman, shouldn't you at least listen to a lady's confession?"
He scoffed, seeming to find it entertaining, and turned his head to look at her, "Where did you get the impression that I'm a gentleman?"
Neither his behavior nor his principles were anywhere close to that of a "gentleman."
