"There it is!" he said. "And now to reward me for—not getting it undone, will you let me give you this flower?" and he stooped and picked a red rose.
Margaret started slightly and looked at him; but the handsome face wore its frankest, "goodest" look, and with a laugh she held out her hand. He drew it back with an answering laugh.
"Before I give it to you, will you tell me one thing, Miss Hale?"
"That depends," she said, "upon what the thing is."
"It's not much," he said. "Only this: will you tell me that you don't think I am quite the savage you accused me of being yesterday?"
She looked up at him with a faint color in her face.
"Yes, I will do that," she said. "But I think you should keep the rose, Lord Leyton."
"No," he said, laughingly, but with an intent look in his eyes, fixed upon her. "No, I've got a fancy for leaving something behind me that you may remember me by. I'm going to-morrow, you know."
"I did not know," said Margaret.
"Yes," with a sigh. "My welcome to the Court is soon outworn, and I'm back to London and the old road," with a laugh.