Winthrope looked down, and began to speak very rapidly: “Miss Genevieve, I–I wish to apologize. I’ve thought it over. I’ve made a mistake–I–I mean, my conduct the other day was vile, utterly vile! Permit me to appeal to your considerateness for a man who has been unfortunate–who, I mean, has been–er–was carried away by his feelings. Your favoring of that bloom–er–that–er–bounder so angered me that I–that I–”
“Mr. Winthrope!” interrupted the girl, “I will have you to understand that you do not advance yourself in my esteem by such references to Mr. Blake.”
“Aye! aye, that Blake!” panted Winthrope. “Don’t you see? It’s ’im, an’ that blossom! W’en a man’s daffy–w’en ’e’s in love!–”
Miss Leslie burst into a nervous laugh; but checked herself on the instant.
“Really, Mr. Winthrope!” she exclaimed, “you must pardon me. I–I never knew that cultured Englishmen ever dropped their h’s. As it happens, you know, I never saw one excited before this.”
“Ah, yes; to be sure–to be sure!” murmured Winthrope, in an odd tone.
The girl threw out her hand in a little gesture of protest.
“Really, I’m sorry to have hurt–to have been so thoughtless!”
Winthrope stood silent. She spoke again: “I’ll do what you ask. I’ll make allowances for your–for your feelings towards me, and will try to forget all you said the other day. Let me begin by asking a favor of you.”
“Ah, Miss Genevieve, anything, to be sure, that I may do!”