“I know but—really, you must excuse me.”
She was moving toward the door, but again he stepped in her way.
“Now, Gertie,” he said. Then he broke into a laugh. “Called you Gertie, didn't I?” he said. “Beg pardon. Quite unintentional. It slipped out before I thought. But you don't mind, do you? It's a pretty name. Just a little bit less formal than Gertrude, eh? Don't you think so—Gertie?”
Gertrude hesitated. She was humiliated and angry, but she did not wish a scene. Her parents might hear and her mother must on no account be disturbed.
“Perhaps it is,” she answered.
“Then you don't mind?”
“No. Now, Percy, you must excuse me. Goodnight!”
“Wait! Wait! Gertie, I have something to say to you. Been wanting to say it for a long time, but haven't had the opportunity. You have kept out of my way. Ha! ha! you know you have. Perhaps you guessed I wanted to say it. Was that it? Ha! ha! was it now? Confess; was it?”
Gertrude did not answer. She moved toward the door. Mr. Hungerford laughingly blocked the passage.
“No, no!” he cried. “No, no! Mustn't run away. I am going to say it, and you must hear me. Come, don't be cross.”