“Does Mr. Converse know that you are going away?”
“I shall tell him to-night before I leave town.”
“He will not allow you to do.”
“Yes—he will,” the young man returned, quietly.
There was a long silence.
“Coming here—following you—it was a mad thing for me to do,” said the girl, still striving to find explanation for her act. “But I have had so much trouble in my own life—I am sorry for others who are in trouble. I want to tell you that I am sorry.”
“I understand,” he repeated.
Another period of silence followed.
“That is all,” said the girl. “I only wanted to tell you what a grand battle you won to-day—and then I saw your face there in the hall and I knew that you did not want praise—you wanted somebody to say to you, 'I'm sorry.'” She dwelt upon the word which expressed her sympathy, putting all her heart into her voice. “And now I'll be going,” she said, “and I hope you understand and will forgive me.”
Farr had been sitting with head against the trunk of the tree. When he had started to rise she requested him to remain seated. Now he stood up so quickly that she gasped. She was plainly still less at ease when he stood and came close to her.