“And you beg my pardon?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. Then I beg yours. I'm sorry, too.”
Now I WAS surprised. I turned in my chair and looked at her.
“You beg my pardon?” I repeated. “For what?”
“Oh, for everything. I suppose I should have spoken to you before buying those things. You might not have been prepared to pay then and—and that would have been unpleasant for you. But—well, you see, I didn't think, and you were so queer and cross when you followed me to the draper's shop, that—that I—well, I was disagreeable, too. I am sorry.”
“That's all right.”
“Thank you. Is there anything else you wish to say?”
“No.”
“You're sure?”