"There!" he said. "There! That's all right, isn't it? We shall have Miss
Moore in directly. Where's your handkerchief?"
She found it and dried her eyes with her head against his shoulder. Then she lifted a still quivering face to his. "Edward,—I'm—just as sorry as you are," she said, with a catch in her voice.
He kissed her again, wondering a little at his own softened feelings. "All right, my girl. Let's forget it!" he said. "You have a good lunch and you'll feel better! What are they giving you? Champagne?"
"Oh no, of course not!"
"Well, why not? It's the very thing you want. Just the occasion. What? You sit still and I'll go and see about it!" He put her down among her cushions, but she clung to him still. "No, don't go for a minute!" she said, with a shaky smile. "It's so good to have you—kind to me for once."
"Good gracious!" he said, but half in jest. "Am I such a brute as all that?"
She pushed back her sleeve and mutely showed him the marks upon her arm.
He looked, and his brows drew together. "My doing?"
She nodded. "Last night—when—when I said—something you didn't like—about Mr. Green."
He scowled a moment longer, then abruptly stooped, took the white arm between his hands and kissed it. "I'll get a stick and beat you the next time," he said. "You remember that—and be decent to Green, see?"