She fell on her knees by the side of the table. Burying her face in her hands, she cried as though her heart would break. Mr Davison could only whisper--
"Mdlle. de Fontanes."
She looked up at him.
"Say you forgive me," she cried.
"Forgive you! I! What have I to forgive?"
"For taking you home that night; for letting you know my father; for letting you know me."
Mr Davison fumbled with a compliment.
"That--that is an honour for which I--I ought to thank you."
She rose. She regarded him intently, the tears still stealing from her eyes. Never had he felt so uncomfortable before a woman's gaze. It seemed to him that he was passing through all the colour phases of the rainbow.
"So you forgive me, truly?"