Miss Wych thought: “He says he’s sorry, the beast!”
“You are mad,” said Miss Wych indifferently. The sun walked in fire and glory, but the world was dark, the world was dark, and bold bad men walked the streets for to be offensive to maids. The young stranger, for instance, did not go away. He said desperately:
“If you will give me just one look you will see that I don’t mean to offend you.”
“That may be so,” said Miss Wych bitterly, “but you do.”
“You only think I do,” protested the lean young man. “That’s all it is, really.”
Then Miss Wych discovered a most extraordinary thing. She discovered that she was walking slowly, slowly. Instantly she walked on quickly.
The lean young man sighed: “Oh, dear!”
Miss Wych said breathlessly: “I don’t even know your name! And how you have got to know mine I really can’t imagine! But you don’t look wicked. Please don’t go on being nasty! Please! Won’t you go away now?”
“Pamela Wych,” the young stranger whispered, “Pamela Wych, Pamela Wych, Pamela Wych, how the devil was I to meet you except by daring this? Further, you are my fate, and what sort of a man would I be if I were to leave my fate in the very second of finding it?”
Miss Wych thought: “This is getting serious.”