He made himself look deeply hurt. The girl laughed softly. He thought it rather remarkable that they should enjoy so sympathetic a sense of humour on such short acquaintance....
“But you forgive me?”
“Oh, yes,” he said generously; “only, of course, I couldn’t help feeling it a bit—coming from you.”
“From me?” Miss Searle sat up in her deck-chair and turned to him. “Mr. Staff! you’re not flirting with me?”
“Heaven forfend!” he cried, so sincerely that both laughed.
“Because,” said she, sinking back, “I must warn you that Mrs. Ilkington has been talking ...”
“Oh,” he groaned from his heart—“damn that woman!”
There was an instant of silence; then he stole a contrite look at her immobile profile and started to get up.
“I—Miss Searle,” he stammered—“I beg your pardon ...”
“Don’t go,” she said quietly; “that is, unless you want to. My silence was simply sympathetic.”