"And you—what are you? Too good for me, perhaps."
"I don't think you ought to say things you don't mean," says Tita. "But as you have made that promise—why, you may take me down now."
She leans towards him, holding out her arms. He takes her into his, and brings her slowly, carefully to the grass beside him. Even when safely landed here he still holds her.
"We are friends?" asks he.
His tone is a question.
"Yes, yes, of course," impatiently. "Are they playing tennis? Do you think they want me?"
It is impossible for him to misunderstand her meaning. A longing to get back to the others to play, and win at her favourite game of tennis, has been in part the cause of her ready forgiveness.
"Certainly they want you," says he, surprised at himself for the touch of chagrin he feels. "But," still holding her, "you have quite made it up with me, haven't you?"
"Quite—quite."
"But what a way to make it up!" says Rylton reproachfully.