“Pardon me. It is I who am in fault. I never before made an apology to any human being; and I should not do so now without a painful conviction that I forgot what I owed to myself.”
“Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself—I mean for never having apologized before. I am quite sure you have not got through life without having done at least one or two things that required an apology.”
“I am sorry you hold that opinion of me.”
“How is Brutus’s paw?”
“Brutus!”
“Yes. That abrupt way of changing the subject is what Mrs. Fairfax calls a display of tact. I know it is very annoying; so you may talk about anything you please. But I really want to hear how the poor dog is.”
“His paw is nearly healed.”
“I’m so glad—poor old dear!”
“You are aware that I did not come here to speak of my mother’s dog, Marian?”
“I supposed not,” said Marian, with a smile. “But now that you have made your apology, wont you come upstairs? Nelly is there.”