I was angrily tugging at the rod when I heard her step behind me. I did not turn.
“I beg your pardon,” she said.
I pretended not to hear.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Paine,” she said again.
“It's all right,” I muttered. “No apologies are necessary.”
I said it like a sullen schoolboy. There was another moment of silence. Then I heard her move away. I looked over my shoulder. She was walking toward the meadow where Don, the horse, was picketed. There was offended dignity in every line of her figure.
For a moment I fought with my pride and injured self-respect. Then I hurried after her.
“Miss Colton,” I said.
“Well?” she neither turned nor stopped.
“Miss Colton, I should not have answered like that. I was rude.”