“He didn’t mean to,” I said warmly. “You understood that?”
“Yes, I understood.”
“I am glad. I’d been waiting the chance to try to explain—to ask you to pardon him—”
“But there wasn’t any need.”
“You mean because you understood—”
“No,” she interrupted gently, “not only that. I mean because he has done it himself.”
“Asked your pardon?” I said, in complete surprise.
“Yes.”
“He’s written you?” I cried.
“No. I saw him to-day,” she answered. “This afternoon when I went for my walk, he was waiting where the paths intersect—”