I went to her as she turned, and spoke low in her ear—two words, “I’m sorry.” She appeared to start; but she gathered her skirts up, and went off through the woods, without an acknowledgment of any sort. I took Johnny’s arm persuasively, as we walked back to the lodge together.
“Am I to congratulate you, old man?”
He flushed to fire.
“Don’t bait me, Dick. I—I don’t think I can bear it. If a year’s devotion would win me just the permission to kiss her little hand.”
“No more than that?”
“No more. What right have I to dream of such a thing!”
He was so obviously moved that I had not the heart to banter him, if I had the inclination. I don’t know about that. I felt of a sudden some sympathy with his diffidence, and all on my own account. What right had he, certainly? Material fortune was not to stand for everything in this world. I was in no mind to let it in my misanthropy; in no mood, with my new sense of independence, to allow myself to be relegated to the ranks of the of-no-accounts. I could still be a dog in the manger, it seemed. And yet my heart was soft with a superior affection for this old chum of mine.
“Johnny,” I said, as I laid and lit the fire, “are you still in the mind to help me?”
“Am I not!” he answered. “Only tell me how.”
I turned round, inspired, with the match in my hand.