Peggy smiled faintly.
“I think it is better he should forget,” she replied.
“It isn’t always possible to forget,” he returned slowly. “I am so sure he will never forget that I am glad our secret is exposed. I am going to return you your pet, Miss Annersley.”
Peggy turned to him quickly in protest, and put out a small hand and laid it on his sleeve.
“No,” she cried, “no. You have more right to him than anyone. You are fond of him too. You must keep him. I want you to keep him.”
John Musgrave looked at the hand on his sleeve. He had seen it there once before, and the sight of it had caused him embarrassment. It did not cause him embarrassment now; he enjoyed the feel of the slight pressure on his arm. Suddenly, without pausing to consider, he put his own hand over it, and kept it there.
“I want you to have him, and I want to keep him too,” he said. “How are we going to get over that?”
Peggy laughed nervously.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I don’t see how that can be.”
“I hoped you would see,” he returned gravely, and halted and imprisoned her other hand, and stood facing her. “There is a way, if only I wasn’t so old and dull for your bright youth.” He released her hands gently. “I suppose you are right, and it isn’t possible.”