“I am very sorry,” he said; “and I can not bear to think of you being unhappy.”
“It’s very good of you,” began May, “but—”
“I won’t allow you to be unhappy,” continued John; “come, you must cheer up—you dear little girl.”
He really did not mean to do it, but when a man has once nearly kissed a pretty girl, it seems very natural for him to do it again. At all events John did kiss the lovely blooming face before him, and all the rebuke he got was:
“Oh! Mr. Temple, you should not do that!”
“I know I should not,” answered John, penitently; “but you are so sweet, so dear, I could not help myself—and then you are unhappy, you know, so you must forgive me.”
“I am really unhappy.”
“Don’t think about the horrid woman,” consoled John, taking the two pretty hands in his; “think of something else—think a little bit about me.”
The last few words were half-whispered, and they seemed to console May somehow. She began to smile again, and she looked softly at John, though she drew her little hands away from his grasp.