“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Angela said, with a sob.
Thus was peace established; but Angela soon found that in yielding she had stooped to conquer: her bear was transformed into a lamb. She might live at Timbuctoo, if it pleased her; she might wander through London alone till one in the morning, though plainly Bernard did not like the prospect.
“But, Bernard, why shouldn’t I?” Angela cried.
“Because you’re so awfully pretty,” was the surprising answer.
“Bernard! I thought you said I wasn’t pretty!”
“I don’t know where you got that idea from.”
“You said you didn’t want me for my looks.”
“Neither do I; I should want you just the same if you were like a gorilla.”
“But do you think me pretty?”
“I should hope so!”