II
On returning to her room at the hotel she got rather a start, for Claude was there. Usually when he went away in anger, he returned late at night, and it was now only late in the afternoon. A glance showed her that he was in gay spirits and that he had communicated this mood to the apartment by filling it with the color and fragrance of flowers. It was a part of his peace offering.
Hardly had she entered, when he rushed forward, relieved her of her parcels and kissed her ardently.
"Darling," he exclaimed, "what a bad-tempered beast I've been! Can you forgive me once more?"
She fought desperately against the spell of his romantic personality.
"Why not?" she said, withdrawing from his caresses.
"You are an angel, dearest," he said, seizing her hands.
"Then I shall be an angel on the wing, Claude."
"Janet! Say anything but that. Prescribe any punishment you please. But do let's begin again, with a clean slate."
"You can't get the slate clean when the scratches are too deep, Claude. To forgive and act as though nothing had changed is hard; to forgive and act as though everything had changed is harder still. We must both be sensible and do the second, the harder thing."