"Is it going to stop with the 'once'?" Herford demanded.
"You will have to ask Mr. Maynadier," she replied, laughing.
"And he declines to express himself," said Maynadier, instantly. He offered his arm to her and bowed. "Shall we resume the mirror, or shall we go outside?"
"Outside," she answered, pressing his arm. "Will Captain Herford go with us?" holding out her hand and giving him a dazzling smile. (She must take him along and be nice to him, she thought.) And she conquered, as she knew she could with him.
"You do not deserve it," she whispered, as she slipped her arm through his, "but, then, you can be very nice, at times."
He smiled, much as a child might have done, and, in an instant, his good nature returned.
"I am sorry, Maynadier," he said. "I apologize to Miss Stirling and to you. I acted like a spoiled boy."
"If Miss Stirling pardons you, mine goes with it," Maynadier replied. "You are a trifle impulsive in your judgment—sometime, it will lead you into trouble."
"It is the sort of impulsiveness a woman can forgive," Miss Stirling said, and leaning for a moment on his arm.
Which completely captured Herford—as she intended it should do—and made it a matter of indifference how much he saw. And Maynadier smiled in understanding, perceiving the play and its motive,—and, leaving them together, he went in search of Miss Marbury.