"You want me to leave you alone?"
"Please. I need sleep badly—and I've only three hours."
"You are—angry with me?"
He looked placidly into her lovely, swimming eyes. "Not in the least."
"But how can you help being? I acted dreadfully."
He smiled gently. "But you are back—and the incident is closed."
She looked down at the carpet, her fingers playing with her braid, twisting and untwisting its strands. He stood waiting to close the door. She said, without lifting her eyes—said in a quiet, expressionless way, "I have killed your love?"
"I'll not trouble you any more," evaded he. And he laid his hand significantly upon the knob.
"I don't understand," she murmured. Then, with a quick apologetic glance at him, "But I'm very inconsiderate. You want to sleep. Good night."
"Good night," said he, beginning to close the door.