By the time he had reached the foot of the ladder, with the cat, Mildred had opened the front door. She was carrying something in her arms, which she set down in the shadow of the veranda. She gave it a gentle push with her foot, and it ran off, unseen by Edward.
Edward set down his cat, and she also ran off.
“There you are!” he said.
Mildred came down the steps.
“Oh, Eddie!” she cried.
It was quite light now in the open. He could see her face, and it seemed to him rather wonderful.
“Eddie!” she said. “You’re soaking wet! Oh, Eddie, it was all my fault!”
“I don’t know that it was,” replied Edward meditatively. “Some of it was my fault, I think.”
She came nearer to him.
“Oh, Eddie!” she cried. “It really doesn’t matter one bit whose fault things are, does it?”