"You remember I was in here the other night—and you wouldn't sell—tin soldiers—."
She flushed a little. "Oh, with your father?"
"Yes. He's a dear old chap—."
It was the best apology he could make, and she loved him for it.
He brought out the cup and set it on the counter. "It is like yours?"
"Yes." But she did not want to take it.
"Please. I brought it on purpose. We have a dozen."
"Of these?"
"Yes."
"But it will break your set."