My heart beat quickly, and a fear that he would snub me caused me to pause. Then I nerved myself with the thought that it would be only fair if he did. I had been rude to him, and he had a right to play tit-for-tat if he felt so disposed. I expected my action to be spurned or ignored, so very timidly slipped my fingers into his palm. I need not have been nervous, for the strong brown hand, which had never been known to strike a cowardly blow, completely enfolded mine in a gentle caressing clasp.
“Mr Beecham, Harold, I am so sorry I was so unwomanly, and said such horrible things. Will you forgive me, and let us start afresh?” I murmured. All flippancy, bitterness, and amusement had died out of me; I was serious and in earnest. This must have expressed itself in my eyes, for Harold, after gazing searchingly right there for a time, seemed satisfied, and his mouth relaxed to its habitually lovable expression as he said:
“Are you in earnest? Well, that is something more like the little woman.”
“Yes, I’m in earnest. Can you forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive, as I’m sure you didn’t mean and don’t remember the blood curdling sentiments you aired.”
“But I did mean them in one sort of a way, and didn’t in another. Let us start afresh.”
“How do you mean to start afresh?”
“I mean for us to be chums again.”
“Oh, chums!” he said impatiently; “I want to be something more.”
“Well, I will be something more if you will try to make me,” I replied.