"I shall be sorry—in a way," she went on. "We have become such good friends, such good comrades with not the least bit of unpleasantness to remember. I shall always be glad of that."
"Yes," he said. "I am glad, indeed, that you feel so."
"If any one had ever told me that I should find so rare a gentleman here"—she laughed—"I would have thought they were talking medieval gallantry."
"Thank you. A gentleman is always himself when a lady is a lady."
Claire flushed a little, and said nothing.
"I shall remember you with pleasure and regret," continued Philip, his head high.
Her eyes opened wide, like a child's. "Oh, with regret, too?"
"Yes. Regret that you did not come to my cabin sooner, freer, and to stay longer."
"You are a consummate flatterer, Philip," she chided.
"I suppose it seems artificial; one can scarcely imagine that I should be in earnest," he said, a little bitterly.