Julian sat down, or sank, on to the chair.
"I'm very sorry I spoke like that to you in the other room—I mean about what you'd written," she said. "I suppose I ought not to have burnt it."
She spoke in this manner because to apologize to him gave her a curious pleasure.
"That's nothing," he answered, with the quietness of fatigue. "I dare say you were right enough. Anyhow, ye'll never see me again."
She exclaimed, kindly protesting—
"Why not, I should like to know?"
"You won't want me here as a visitor, after all this." He faintly sneered.
"I shall," she insisted.
"Louis won't."
She replied: "You must come and see me. I shall expect you to. I must tell you," she added confidentially, in a lower tone, "I think you've been splendid to-night. I'm sure I respect you much more than I did before—and you can take it how you like!"