“Did you cry?” he said. “Did my little chap’s conceit make too much of it? I suppose I ought to hope it did.”
Robin put her hand softly against her heart.
“No,” she answered. “I was only a baby, but I think it killed something—here.”
He caught a big hard breath.
“Oh!” he said and for a few seconds simply sat and gazed at her.
“But it came to life again?” he said afterwards.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what it was. Perhaps it could only live in a very little creature. But it was killed.”
“I say!” broke from him. “It was like wringing a canary’s neck when it was singing in the sun!”
A sudden swelling of the music of a new dance swept in to them and he rose and stood up before her.
“Thank you for giving me my chance to tell you,” he said. “This was the apology. You have been kind to listen.”