"Sorry—for what?"
"For you."
Howard Maitland got on his feet, and walked the length of the room, and back; he said something under his breath. Then he drew up a chair beside her and took her hand.
"I never thought of such a thing."
"What!"
"You are the only girl I ever cared two cents for."
She put her hand against her young breast, in astounded question: "I?"
"I should think you'd have seen it. You, and—and everybody."
"But Howard, it can't be—me?" she protested, faintly.