There was a pause. “What did you do?” asked the other.
“I just looked at him calmly, and said, ‘Oh, how could you?’ And at that he took his arm away quickly, and sat up stiff and straight, with a terribly hurt expression. ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘I was mad.’ And we neither of us spoke a word all the way home. And when we came to the house, I jumped out of the carriage without saying good-night.”
Corydon sat staring at her husband, with her wide-open, anxious eyes. “And was that all?” he asked.
“To-day I had a letter from him. He said he was going away, over the Christmas holidays. He said that he was very much ashamed of himself, and he hoped that I would be able to forgive him. And that’s all.”
They sat for a while in silence. “You won’t be too angry?” asked Corydon, anxiously.
“I’m not angry at all,” he said. “But naturally it’s disturbing. I don’t like to have such things happen to you.”
“It’s strange, you know,” said Corydon, “but I haven’t seemed to stay very indignant. He was so hurt, you know—and I can realize how unhappy he’s been. Curiously enough, I’ve even found myself thinking that I’d like to see him again. And that puzzled me. I felt that I ought to be quite outraged. That he should imagine he could hug me—like any shop-girl!”
They spent many hours discussing this adventure; in fact it was a week or two before they had disposed of it entirely. Thyrsis was hoping that the experience might be utilized to persuade Corydon to modify her utopian attitude towards young men with soulful eyes and waving brown hair. He was at some pains to set forth to her the psychology of the male creature—insisting that he knew more about this than she did, and that his remarks applied to drawing-teachers as well as to all other arts and professions.
The main question, of course, was as to their attitude towards Harry Stuart when he returned. Corydon, it became clear, had forgiven him; the phraseology of his letter was touching, and he was now invested in the glamor of penitence. She insisted that the episode might be overlooked, and that their friendship could go on as before. But Thyrsis argued vigorously that their relationship could never be the same again, and declared that they ought not to meet.
“But then,” Corydon protested, “he’ll be at the Jennings! And I can’t snub him!”