"Oh, but you missed it!" she said. "I never had so much fun in all my life."
He did not answer. Instead, he lifted a pair of melancholy eyes, and looked at her steadfastly.
"Oh," she said after a puzzled moment, "I forgot. We are mad, aren't we? One of us owes the other an apology."
"Which do you think it is!" he asked gently, as if appealing to her higher nature.
Bobby, with her head on one side, considered the matter. "Well," she said, "you did something I didn't like, and I did something you didn't like. Strikes me the drinks are on us both."
"The—" Percival's horrified look caused her to exclaim contritely:
"Excuse me, I'll do better next time. Come on, let's make up. Put it there and call it square!"
It was impossible to refuse the small hand that had been the cause of the trouble, but even as Percival thrilled to its clasp he realized his danger. During the course of his twenty-eight years he had always been able to prescribe a certain course for himself and follow it with reasonable certainty. Exciting moments were now occurring when he was unable to tell what his next word or move was going to be. It is quite certain that he never intended to take her hand in both of his and look at her in the way he was doing now.
"What a bunch of letters!" she said, getting possession of her hand. "You see, I have some, too. I'll read you some of mine if you'll read me some of yours. Will you?"
"Which will you have?"