"And why was that?"
"I thought you might imagine I was just doing it."
I knew what she meant; there was no need for her to explain further. She didn't want to influence me in any way; whatever I did must be done of my own free will.
"I'm beginning to understand," I said slowly.
"Then you'll forgive?" she said quickly, and one hand went up to her throat as if she were choking.
I nodded and impulsively she held out her hand to me. I did not take it, and she half-turned so that I would not see what was in her eyes.
"Can't we even be friends?" she said, with a queer little catch in her words.
Something snapped in my head at that, and the words I had been holding back all the evening came to my lips in a rush of speech.
"I didn't mean you to take it that way," I said desperately. "I wouldn't shake hands because ... that's not what I want. It's too stand-offish. I'm going to do more than forgive, and we're going to me more than friends, if you still want me."
"You know I want you," she said softly with her head bowed shyly and the blushes rising in her cheeks.