"Generous?" she sneered. "Is it possible?"
"My dear girl," said I, "I haven't a temper to lose; I am a sober, cold-blooded man of the world. Of thirty."
I laughed out heartily, then stopped, remembering the patient. He stirred and we both hurried to his side. But he did not wake.
I looked up and offered Miss Ottley my right hand.
"We started badly," I whispered, "but still we may be friends."
Her eyes darkened with anger. She stood like a statue regarding me, her expression sphinx-like and brooding. "Instinct says one thing and pride another!" I hazarded.
She coloured to her chin, but her firm glance did not falter.
"Ah, well," said I, and made off to my stone couch, convinced that a man who argues with a woman is a fool. And I was punished properly. She haunted my dreams.