"I was just lonely without you," he said. "Like an unreasonable child I brooded over it and—" he shrugged, "it suddenly went to my head. Will you forgive my bad temper?"
"Yes—I will. Only I never knew you had a temper. It—astonishes me."
He said nothing, smilingly.
"Of course," she went on, still flushed, "I knew you were impulsive—hot-headed—but I know you like me—"
"I was crazily in love with you," he said, lightly; "and when you let me touch you—"
"Oh, I won't ever again, José!" she exclaimed, half-fearfully; "I supposed you understood that sentiment could be a perfectly meaningless and harmless thing—merely a silly moment—a foolish interlude in a sober friendship…. And I liked you, José—"
[Illustration: "'I shall have need of friends,' she said half to herself.">[
"Can you still like me?"
"Y-yes. Why, of course—if you'll let me."
"Shall we be the same excellent friends, Valerie? And all this ill temper of mine will be forgotten?"