“Ah, but I’m—we’re going to turn over a new leaf!” he said, laughing. “That’s settled, isn’t it? Good! This is going to be no end better, all round.”
All very well for him to say so! I thought, as I got up and turned towards the dim, blue-white front of the house with the dark girdle of the veranda circling it, and the windows, now lighted up, set into it like a chain of long, rosy jewels.
He rose too.
“Well!” he said, straightening himself a head and shoulders above me. “Do we shake hands on that, Nancy?”
“I suppose so,” said I.
What else was there to say or do?
I don’t consider it’s going to be “better all round.” For me it will be ever so much more awkward—as well as something—yes!—something like a climb-down.
Still——
As he held out his hand I put my own into a particularly warm and hearty grip.