"Much obliged," said Garth coolly. "I intended to take it in the first place. But Miss Bland refused to allow herself to be carried there."
Mabyn's eyes bolted. His control over his facial muscles was imperfect; and the struggle between the open character he desired to convey, and the secret feelings that tortured him, was plain. "What are you going to do?" he asked.
"Build her a house," said Garth.
Mabyn, turning his back, appeared to be considering.
"Is that all you have to say?" asked Garth.
The other turned a face of obstinate friendliness and good will. "Look here—" he began all over. "I don't know your name——"
Garth informed him.
"Well, Pevensey, I'm sorry for what passed this morning. I regret what I said. I was only half awake; and scarcely knew what I did. Will you overlook it?"
"Talk is cheap," said Garth guardedly. "I will be guided by your actions henceforth." But his voice was milder; for an apology could not help but speak to his sense of generosity.
Mabyn, encouraged, amplified his penitent, ingratiating air. "As to the future," he said, "I mean to show you. You'll soon be satisfied!" He came closer. "In the meantime let's make a truce! Shake hands on it!"