She closed the door as gently as she had opened it. The action pathetically expressed the quiet sorrow of a much-wronged woman's heart.
"Yes," said Heriot gallantly, "I'm back again to Scotland, home and beauty. Ha, ha! Now that was quite pretty, wasn't it?"
But her black eyes declined to sparkle, as she glided silently to a chair. Out of the corner of his own eye her lover looked at her critically.
"I'm delighted to see you again, Madge," he went on; but his words had a hollow ring, and his eye continued to express more doubt than passion.
"Have you no apology to offer me?" she inquired, with the same ominous calm.
"For what, my dear lady?"
She started a little and glanced at him apprehensively. "My dear lady" hardly indicated love's divinest frenzy.
"For treating me shamefully!"
"This is strong language," he smiled indulgently. "Tell me now, I say, just tell me what I've done."