The General’s lady flushed. He saw the red glow creep up from her neck to her face, under the thick powder, and her eyes gleamed menacingly; but she only inclined her head.
“I want to apologize,” he went on. “I’m most awfully sorry: my remarks were stupid, and I think I must have been trying to say something bright. Will you please forgive me?”
The flush deepened. “I’m glad you apologize,” she said, and she glanced at the Guardsman beside her, as though to bid him take notice of what she supposed to be the discomfiture of the offender.
“I’m very glad that you accept my apology,” he said, and with a bow he left her.
“What on earth did you say?” asked Muriel, when he had returned to her.
“I apologized,” he answered, quietly.
“Ate humble pie?” she queried, with a touch of disdain.
“I had hurt her feelings: I’m always sorry to annoy anybody,” he replied.
“Well,” she remarked, “I think you’ve rather annoyed me now, by climbing down like that.” She did not feel that humility suited him, and she was conscious of a sense of disappointment.
“My good girl,” he whispered, “you’ve got a lot to learn from the philosophers. You must let me put you through a course of reading.”