"No—but forgive me," he insisted in a pleading tone.
"I suppose I must," she said at last. "But I shall never feel sure of you again. How can I?"
"I promise. You will believe me, not to-day, perhaps, nor to-morrow, but soon. I will be just what I have always been. I will never do anything to offend you again."
"You promise me that? Solemnly?" She still smiled.
"Yes. It is a promise. I will keep it. I will be your friend always. Give me something to do for you. It will make it easier."
"What can I ask you to do? I shall never dare to speak to you about my life again."
"I think you will, when you see that I am just as I used to be. And you forgive me, quite?"
"Yes. I must. We must forget to-day. It must be as though it had never happened. Will you forget it?"
"I will try." But of that he knew the utter impossibility.
"If you try, you can succeed. Now get up. Be reasonable."