"I don't know, I'm sure. I hope not," says Guy, lightly; and there is something both in his tone and words that restores Miss Chesney to amiability. She looks at him steadily for a moment, and then she smiles.
"I am forgiven?" asks Guy, eagerly, taking courage from her smile.
"Yes."
"Shake hands with me, then," says he, holding out his own.
"You expect too much," returns Lilian, recoiling. "Only an hour ago, you refused to take my hand: how then can I now accept yours?"
"I was a brute, nothing less!" declares he, emphatically. "Yet do accept it, I implore you."
There is a good deal more meaning in his tone than even he himself is quite aware of. Miss Chesney either does not or will not see it. Raising her head, she laughs out loud, a low but thoroughly amused laugh.
"Any one listening would say you were proposing to me," she says, mischievously; whereupon he laughs too, and seats himself upon the low ottoman beside her.
"I shouldn't mind," he says; "should you?"
"Not much. I suppose one must go through it some time or other."