He rose instantly at her entrance, rose and closed the window; then lowered the blind very quietly, very slowly, and finally turned round to her.
"What is it? You have forgotten something?"
Except that he was paler than usual, his face bore no trace of emotion. He looked at her with his heavy eyes gravely, with unfailing patience.
For an instant she stood irresolute, afraid; then again that urging impulse drove her forward. She moved close to him.
"I only came back to say—I only wanted to tell you—Vivian, I—I was horrid to you this afternoon. Forgive me!"
She stretched out her trembling hands to him, and he took them, held them fast, then sharply let them go.
"My dear," he said, "you were in trouble, and I intruded upon you. It was no case for forgiveness."
But she would not accept his indulgence.
"I was horrid," she protested, with a catch in her voice. "Why are you so patient with me? You never used to be."
He did not answer her. He seemed to regard the question as superfluous.