"I am sorry I got into a bad temper," she answered, laughing. "It was stupid of me."
"I think I have said enough to apologize," he said. "It is a process I dislike very much."
And with that he wished her good-night and went to his room.
But that was not the end of the matter, for the next day when he was taking his breakfast with her, he of his own accord returned to the subject.
"It was partly your own fault that I vexed you last night," he said. "You have never before been touchy, and so I have become accustomed to saying what I choose. And it is not in my nature to be flattering."
"That is a very truthful statement of yours," she said, as she poured out her coffee. "But I own I was touchy. And so I shall be again if you make such cutting remarks about my photographs!"
"You have a crooked eye," he said grimly. "Look there, for instance! You have poured your coffee outside the cup. Of course you can do as you like, but the usual custom is to pour it inside the cup."
They both laughed, and the good understanding between them was cemented again.
"You are certainly getting better," he said suddenly. "I should not be surprised if you were able to write a book after all. Not that a new book is wanted. There are too many books as it is; and not enough people to dust them. Still, it is not probable that you would be considerate enough to remember that. You will write your book."
Bernardine shook her head.