“They would have been killed!” I cried.
“Exactly,” he remarked, grimly.
“You are very wicked to think of such a thing,” I said.
“I am only living up to my reputation, then,” he answered. “That is what my godmamma told you about me, isn’t it?”
“I shall not stay with you a moment longer,” I declared, ignoring the latter part of his sentence, and laying my hand upon the gate.
“Won’t you—shake hands before you go?” he asked.
I hesitated. His request was gruff and his tone implied rather a command than a favor. But I looked up at him, and I saw that he was in earnest.
So I held out my hand and we parted friends.