“Crying?” she repeated confusedly. “Why, no, of course—of course not! I—How do you do, Captain Whittaker? I'm—we're all very glad to see you home again—and well.”
She extended her hand. Captain Cy reached forward to take it; then he hesitated.
“I don't think I'd ought to let you shake hands with me, Phoebe,” he said. “Not until I beg your pardon.”
“Beg my pardon? Why?”
He absently took the hand and held it.
“For the word I sent to you when I went away. 'Twas an awful thing to say, but I meant it for your sake, you know. Honest, I did.”
She laughed nervously.
“Oh! that,” she said. “Well, I did think you were rather particular as to your visitors. But Mr. Tidditt explained, and then—You needn't beg my pardon. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I knew you meant to be kind to me.”
“That's what I did. But you didn't obey orders. You kept comin'. Now, why—”
“Why? Did you suppose that I cared for the malicious gossip of—such people? I came because you were in trouble, and I hoped to help you. And—and I thought I had helped, until a few minutes ago.”