“I was thinking that perhaps you had forgiven me,” he said, hopefully.
“I have”—she frowned a little—“I think I have.”
“And—you do not think me a coward?”
“No,” she said, watching him, chin propped on her linked fingers.
He laughed gratefully.
“As a matter of cold fact,” he observed, “if we had met anywhere in town—under other circumstances—there is no reason that I can see why we shouldn’t have become excellent friends.”
“No reason at all,” she said, thoughtfully.
“And that reminds me,” he went on, dropping his voice and leaning across the table, “I’m going to send back a telegram to my sister, and I fancy you may wish to send one to your wandering brother.”
“I suppose I’d better,” she said. An involuntary shiver passed over her. “He’s probably frantic,” she added.
“Probably,” he admitted.