"I would not for worlds have missed it."
Again she frowned and now turned to go. "And you, too, must make these speeches!"
The world of reproach in her tone was at once gall and honey to me. Gall, because the "you too" conjured up a host of jealous imaginings; honey, because it was revealed that of me she had hoped for better. And now like a fool I had flung her good opinion away and she was leaving me.
I made a half-step forward.
"I must go now," she said, and the little hand was held out in token of farewell.
"No! no! I have offended you."
No answer.
"I have offended you," I insisted, still holding her hand.
"I forgive you. But, indeed, I must go." The hand made a faint struggle to be free.
"Why?"