"Oh, very well," Lionel said, though somewhat ungraciously. "But you see you are getting rather the best of this performance. You come here with a ridiculous cock-and-bull story, you threaten and vapor and kick up mock-heroics, you throw a bottle of ink over a book belonging to a friend of mine—and then you are to get off by saying two or three words of apology!"
"What can I do more?" said the humble penitent. "I have tried to explain. I—I was as ready to fight as you could be; but—but now I obey the person who has the best right to say what shall be done in such an affair. I have made every apology and explanation I could; and I ask your pardon."
"Oh, very well," Lionel said again.
"Will you give me your hand, then?" Mr. Percival Miles asked; and he somewhat timidly advanced a step, with outstretched palm.
"That isn't necessary," said Lionel, making no other response.
The fair-haired young warrior seemed greatly embarrassed.
"I—I was told—" he stammered; but Lionel, who was now inclined to laugh, broke in on his confusion.
"Did Miss Burgoyne say you weren't to come away without shaking hands with me—is that it?" he asked, with a smile.
"Y—yes," answered the young gentleman, blushing furiously.
"Oh, very well, there's no trouble about that," Lionel said,