And then he began to think of the bitter words which she had spoken. The room still seemed to ring with those words which had whirled from her when she had stood with her hand on the door:
“I never wish to see your face again!”
Those were bitter words; and he felt that she meant them. She meant them. He could not doubt that. Yes, she meant....
And then the door was thrown open, and before he could raise his head, which was bent forward, his chin resting on one hand, she had flung herself on her knees before him, and was kissing his face, holding a hand on each of his cheeks, sobbing at the intervals.
“Oh, Dick—my own dear Dick, forgive me for what I have said—forget all that I have said! You are the only good man that I have met, Dick, and I will not go back to London without knowing that you have forgiven me. Say that you do, Dick; I am only a poor woman—it is so easy to forgive a woman, is it not, Dick?”
He kissed her on the forehead, and then on one of her cheeks, where a tear was glistening.
“You have no business with tears,” said he.
But that was just where he made a mistake.