Then Percival realized that it was quite possible for lightning to strike twice in the same place. He felt a sudden pain in his throat, a burning under his lids, and he sat down limply.
"I'm so sorry!" whispered Bobby, putting her arm impulsively around his heaving shoulders
"I'm so sorry!" whispered Bobby, putting her arm impulsively around his heaving shoulders. "I thought we were playing a game. I thought you understood. Please forgive me, Mr. Hascombe! Please! Won't you?"
He shook off her arm and stood up. He was whiter than he had been on the night of the accident, but he managed to achieve a smile.
"Nothing whatever to forgive, I assure you. Just a bit of a bunker, you know. Silly ass I was, not to have seen it all along. May I offer my congratulations?" he added.
She took the hand that he hold out, and for a longer time than either of them knew they stood silent, looking out into the vast mystery of the night, while the throbbing strains of "La Paloma" floated up from below, mingling with the music of the rippling water.
"I guess this is good-by," said Bobby, tremulously.
Then it was that the Honorable Percival illustrated the fact that an English gentleman is often greatest in defeat.