After a silent moment he spoke, “Don’t you think that you were rather hard on me last week?”
“Yes,” she said frankly, “I have thought it all over; I intended to tell you that I was sorry; I am sorry; I will not do so again.”
“Till next time?”
“There shall not be any next time; in my thoughts I have been very unjust to you; I have come nearer hating, really hating you, than any other person I ever knew. I am sorry; I am always sorry to be unjust.”
One look into the sunshiny eyes satisfied her that she was forgiven. It almost seemed as if they were on the old confidential footing.
“Have you gathered any autumn leaves?” he asked.
“Yes, some beautiful ones. I did not get any last year—” She stopped, confused.
She had lived through her year without him. Was he remembering last October, too?
About sunset it cleared; she was glad for Dr. Lake’s sake; about the bride she did not think; Sue would be thankful if none of her bridal finery were spoiled.
The evening mail brought a letter from Dinah.