“Do you wish to sleep?” she asked.
“No,” Vane assured her; “I’d a good deal sooner talk to you.”
“Well,” said Evelyn, “I have something to say. I’m afraid I was rather unpleasant to you the evening before you sailed. I was sorry for it afterwards; it was flagrant injustice.”
“Then I wonder why you didn’t answer the letter I wrote at Nanaimo.”
“For a very good reason; I never got it.”
Vane considered this for a few moments. “After all,” he said, “it doesn’t matter now. I’m acquitted?”
“Absolutely.”
“Do you know,” he said, “I’ve still no idea of my offence?”
Evelyn was exceedingly glad to hear it, but a warmth crept into her face, and as the blood showed through the delicate skin he fixed his eyes intently upon her.
“It was all a mistake; I’m sorry still,” she declared penitently.