Later, seated beside him on the couch, her head on his shoulder, and his arm about her, Cleone gave a great sigh.
"But why—why did you treat me so—hatefully—when you—came back, Philip?"
"I was hurt, darling, and wished to see whether you wanted the real me—or a painted puppet. But then you changed suddenly—and I knew not what to think."
Cleone nestled closer.
"Because I thought you—did not care! But oh, Philip, Philip, I have been so unhappy!"
Philip promptly kissed her.
"And—last night—Philip, you don't think I—"
"Sweetheart! Is it likely that I'd believe ill of you?"
She hid her face.