"I will."
"And unkind in your inferences and conclusions?"
"Even that I will confess.—You know that I had no intention of being either unkind, nor arbitrary, nor dictatorial."
"I know only what you said at the time, Mr. Pendleton; from it there was no other conclusion to draw. However, it won't profit us to discuss it now—you've apologized; I accept the apology on the condition that you don't offend again."
"But I'm going to offend again. At least, I'm going to speak frankly about a matter, in the hope that you'll not be offended—but that if you are offended you'll be warned nevertheless—and heed the warning. Shall I proceed?"
"You may use your own judgment," she returned.
"First, I want to ask if you received my letter, written from Boston the day after our—quarrel?"
"I did not."
The servant came with the tea and toast, and placed them on the table.
"How many lumps, Mrs. Lorraine?" the man asked, sugar tongs poised.