He wheeled in his tracks; she turned to confront him for an instant.
"I'm just a plain beast," he said. "You won't forgive me of course."
"You had no right to say what you did. You said 'Calypso'—and I ought not to have heard you.... But I did.... Tell me; if I am too generous to suspect you of intentional impertinence, you are now too chastened to suspect that I came back to give you this chance. That is quite true, isn't it?"
"Of course. You are generous and—it's simply fine of you to overlook it."
"I don't know whether I intend to overlook it; I was surprised and disappointed; but I did desire to give you another chance. And I was so afraid you'd be rude enough to take it that—I spoke first. That was logical. Oh, I know what I'm doing—and it's particularly common of me—being who I am—"
She paused, meeting his gaze deliberately.
"You don't know who I am. Do you?"
"No," he said. "I don't deserve to. But I'll be miserable until I do."
After a moment: "And you are not going to ask me—because, once, I said that it was nice of you not to?"
The hint of mockery in her voice edged his lips with a smile, but he shook his head. "No, I won't ask you that," he said. "I've been beastly enough for one day."