"I had no idea I should see you to-day," says Cyril; which is the exact truth,—for a wonder.
"Why? You always see me when you come round here, don't you?" says Mrs. Arlington; which is not the truth, she having been the secret witness of his coming many times, when she has purposely abstained from being seen.
"I hope," says Cyril, gently, "you have forgiven me for having inadvertently offended you last—month."
"Last week, you mean!" in a surprised tone.
"Is it really only a week? How long it seems!" says Cyril. "Are you sure it was only last week?"
"Quite sure," with a slight smile. "Yes, you are forgiven. Although I do not quite know that I have anything to forgive."
"Well, I had my own doubts about it at the time," says Cyril; "but I have been carefully tutoring myself ever since into the belief that I was wrong. I think my principal fault lay in my expressing a hope that the air here was doing you good; and that—to say the least of it—was mild. By the bye, is it doing you good?"
"Yes, thank you."
"I am glad of it, as it may persuade you to stay with us. What lovely roses you have! Is that one over there a 'Gloire de Dijon'? I can scarcely see it from this, and I'm so fond of roses."