“I feel that too,” said Bayre.
And then they both began to look at each other shyly and to laugh heartily at the same moment.
“What did he say?” asked Bayre, at last.
“I can’t tell you all,” said she, with a demure look. “What he said demands considerable expurgation for your ears. We will say that he hinted mildly that the front door is a more desirable entrance for a dutiful and affectionate nephew than the drawing-room window. Will that do?”
Bayre laughed again.
“I feel that myself, I assure you. But, on the other hand, hasn’t he wiped out my offence by attempting to retaliate with an Indian war club?”
“Now let’s be serious,” said she, when they had exhausted their merriment over this view of the case. “He takes the matter very seriously indeed, I can tell you. And when I suggested that his eccentricity might well seem like insanity to a stranger, and that it made you nervous to know that I was in the house, he said that was no excuse for your action. And really, I almost think he was right.”
“So do I. And I mean to apologise to him.”
“I think he would rather not see you again, even for that.”
“But I want to apologise. I want also to put him on his guard against certain persons who are more likely to do him injury than I am.”