“No; I am asking pardon for myself, because I was the unwilling cause of it all. Won’t you forgive me, Richard?”
“If I thought,” I said, “of calculating up all you have to answer to me for! I don’t feel very kind to you.”
“Be unkind, then,” she said. “Only forgive me.”
I struggled with myself a little.
“I can’t,” I said at last. “I’m afraid I’m very vindictive, and must have my pound of flesh first.”
“Take it of me,” she said at once, “in whatever way you like.”
I laughed.
“Fine heroic words! Would you submit to the process? I’m in the way to humble some folks.”
“Richard,” she said, “remember who she is. Spare your mother. I’m ready to take the blame and the punishment for both.”
She was certainly a young slight thing; prettyish in a fancy way; easy to bend or break.