She raised passionate eyes to his face.
“I will never forgive you as long as I live if you dare to,” she said stormily.
Micky frowned till his brows nearly met above his kind eyes.
“Whatever I say or offer to do is wrong, of course,” he said savagely. “If I had not offered to tell her, you would probably have said that I was ashamed of knowing you ... oh, good Heavens! whatever have I said now?” he added as he saw the hot blood rush to her face.
He went over to her and tried to take her hand. “Do forgive me; I beg of you to forgive me––I’m a clumsy idiot––but you don’t know how hurt I’ve felt about being turned down in this way.”
“It’s absurd to feel hurt––I haven’t turned you down; I wish you wouldn’t keep saying that I have. Why I––I hardly know you,” she added with a little angry laugh.
Micky turned away; he stood staring down into the fire; neither of them spoke again till June returned.
She carried a tray of cakes and hot toast; she set it down with a thump on the round table by the fire.
“I coaxed it out of Mrs. Elders,” she explained breathlessly. “I generally keep some cake up here myself, but I haven’t got a bit to-day. Esther, fetch the cloth, there’s a dear; and, Micky, you put the kettle on––I have filled it.”
She bustled about, talking the whole time; if she noticed the constraint between the other two she said nothing till tea was ready, and she sat down amongst the mauve cushions with a breathless sigh.