He looked at her a little anxiously when she came in, and was rather puzzled by her face. She was pale, and she had been crying, for her eyelids were red; but she gave him a peculiarly sweet and winning smile, and there was a pleading softness in the lovely eyes under the wet lashes which melted his heart to her at once, although she offered him her hand only and would not allow him to kiss her cheek.
"What—not one kiss for me this afternoon? I thought I was forgiven!" he said reproachfully.
"It is I who want forgiveness," she answered, "for being so bad-tempered and cross and rude last night."
"Take my forgiveness then," said Hubert almost gaily in his relief at hearing the sweetness of her voice—"and take it in this form."
He would not be denied; and Cynthia had no heart to struggle. She let him enfold her in his arms for a moment, and press a dozen kisses on her lips and cheek; then she drew herself away. He felt the movement; although he did not let her go.
"My dearest, you do not speak naturally—and you want to get away from me. What does this mean?"
"I don't know that I exactly want to get away from you," said Cynthia, smiling; "but I think that perhaps I must."
The smile was a very woeful little affair after all.
"Must! I don't think I shall ever let you go again!"
He tightened his clasp. She looked up into his face with beseeching eyes.