"Forgive me, Stephanie. I love only you, Truda."
"But when you go back to that other world of which you told me, and I am there, alone?"
"I will love only you," he answered in a voice which carried conviction even to Truda.
She bent over him and laid her face in his hands.
"It strikes me," said Mr. Maynard, "that you haven't come out so badly, after all, Beekman."
"No," said Beekman. "Harnash, it was a--it wasn't a--pleasant--thing you did, but now that I love Truda, I can understand. We'll say no more. Let's forget it and be friends again."
"And you forgive me?" asked Stephanie, kneeling by his side, while Truda jealously raised her arm as a barrier. Stephanie laughed. "I won't touch him," she said.
"What shall I forgive?"
"That violent assault of a moment since," she said as a deep flush spread over her face. "It was the only way to let her see we were nothing to each other."
"It was a very effective way," said Beekman, his native humor coming to the rescue. "George," he said, extending his hand to his friend, "let me give you a piece of advice. Take a few boxing lessons before you take this lady for your wife."