He seized her hands. “As no one has ever understood me!” he cried. “Philippa! No! Don’t move. Don’t! I must tell you—I can’t——”
She struggled to loose her hands, and he released them. When she was free she moved a little away from him, to the other end of the bench, and sat motionless, her eyes fixed on the ground.
Robert was abashed. He had angered her—he did not know how deeply! He hesitated.
“Philippa,” he whispered at last, “you are angry?”
“Not angry,” she returned almost at once, “but disappointed, Fergus. More than once you have promised not to let that kind of thing happen again.”
“I know,” he began, humbly, “but——”
“What were we talking about?” she asked, in a studiously quiet tone.
“I don’t know,” admitted Robert, with truth. His head was in a whirl.
“About you, I expect,” she returned, with no trace of sarcasm. “Yours is a very finely strung temperament. It requires the sympathy that comes of insight. Now if Cecily would only——” She paused, as though hesitating to criticise.
“Cecily surprised me a good deal the other day,” he said, suddenly. “I meant to tell you.”