"There are some things that it is not easy to forget," she said coldly.
His demeanour changed in an instant. "Oh, all right," he said, "if you prefer to sulk!"
He swung upon his heel. In a moment he would have been gone; but in that moment the inner force that Vera had ignored suddenly sprang above every other emotion or consideration. She put out a quick hand and stayed him.
"I am not sulking! I never sulk! But I can't behave—all in a moment—as if nothing had happened. Edward!"
It was her voice that held pleading now, for he made as if he would leave her in spite of her detaining hold. She tightened her fingers on his arm.
"Edward, please!" she said.
He stopped. "Well?" he said gruffly. Then, as she said nothing further, he turned slowly and looked at her. Her head was bent. She was striving for self-control. Something in her attitude went straight to the man's heart. She looked so small, so forlorn, so pathetic in her struggle for dignity.
On a generous impulse he flung his own away. "Oh, come, my dear!" he said, and stooping took her into his arms. "I'm sorry. There!"
She clung to him then, clung closely, still battling to check the tears that she knew he disliked.
He kissed her forehead and patted her shoulder with a queer compunction that had never troubled him before in his dealings with her.