“Yes; and so I came this way—three times.” He looked to see how she would accept this proof of devotion and was rewarded with the sight of a little demure smile.
“You—you were very kind to waste your time on me,” she replied gravely.
“Betty!”
Phillip was certain afterward, when he thought it over, that he didn’t say it—that it just escaped in the manner and with all the unexpectedness of a Jack-in-the-box when the latch is loosed. Betty shot a sudden glance at him and then looked across the street. Phillip took a long breath.
“I—I beg your pardon,” he said earnestly. “I didn’t mean—— It came out, you know!” Betty laughed a trifle nervously, her face still averted.
“Yes, it did ‘come out,’ didn’t it?” she asked. Then, severely, coldly: “Is it the custom in Virginia, Mr. Ryerson, to address girls by their—their first names the second time you meet them?”
“No,” answered Phillip, miserably. “And I’m very sorry. Won’t you—can’t you forgive me?”
“Perhaps; if—” Betty turned and observed him frowningly—“if it doesn’t happen again.”
“Ever?”