"True," he returns, feeling a little discomfited. "Well, good-night,
Tita."
"Good-night."
She refuses to see his proffered hand.
"Of course," says Rylton, who now feels he is in the wrong, "I am very sorry that I—that I——"
"Yes, so am I," with a saucy little tilting of her chin.
"Sorry," continues Rylton, with dignity, "that I felt it my duty to—to——"
"Make a fool of yourself? So am I!" says Lady Rylton.
After this astounding speech there is silence for a moment or two. Then Rylton, in spite of himself, laughs. And after a faint struggle with _her_self, Tita joins in his mirth. Emboldened by this departure, and really anxious to make it up with her, Rylton bids her good-night again, and this time would have added a kiss to his adieu. But Tita pushed him away.
"Kiss you? Not likely!" says she scornfully; "I shall never want to kiss you again in all my life!"