“Did she?”
“I—I suppose so. What difference does that make? Do you mind if I smoke?”
“Of course not.” She took a cigarette from his silver case. “I'll have one with you—from the same match! Voilà!” She inhaled deeply and blew out a grey cloud. “Tell me more about Katherine.”
His frown deepened.
“Poor woman! She was reckless. I am sure she had never done a thing like this before. I hadn't either. I don't mean that I've been an angel, Pen, but—” he paused, then, with a flash of self-justification: “I give you my word of honor, in the main I have not done that sort of thing.”
She caught his hand impulsively. “I know you haven't. I'm so glad. Now I will drink to—to you.” She rose and stood before him, a lithe young creature vibrant with life. “Touch your glass to mine. My dear boy! My Christopher!”
They drank together.
Then Herrick resumed his explanation. “I must tell you a little more, darling. You see I was sorry for this woman, her story was so pathetic. I wanted to help her, if I could, not to harm her. So I suggested that we each make a pledge to the other—”
He was intensely in earnest, but Penelope's eyes were now dancing in mockery.
“Oh you reformer! You ridiculous boy!” she laughed.