* * * * *
When the dance ended, she came directly to me, smiling and confident. I was quite at a loss to account for the sudden antagonism which came over me.
“I’ve saved this dance: it’s yours, Davy. If you’ll ask me?”
“I’ve forgotten how,” I said shortly, and with very bad grace. “Besides, after all this while, we might have something to say to each other.”
Now, this was not only ill-humored, but unjustified. She looked at me quickly and then, with a glance down the conservatory: “There’s a corner. Let’s sit it out, then?”
A little remorseful, I gave her my arm, saying:
“First I want to thank you for your letters. They meant a lot.”
She did not answer, suddenly serious, wondering, perhaps, at my mood. When we had come to our corner she turned and faced me.
“You have changed, Davy.”