Clytie saw at once by Caroline's face. A little thrill of gladness sent the colour to her cheeks and caused her eyes to sparkle as she paused with one glove half off and looked quickly at her friend.
“Kent?”
Caroline nodded, glad at seeing that Clytie was pleased.
“I wanted to drop you a line, but how could I on Sunday in this postless town? George only condescended to tell me last night that he was coming. If we had as little sense as men, I wonder how on earth we should get on! He met him out a week ago and persuaded him.”
“It will be quite like an old evening, dear,” said Clytie. “I shall be so glad to see him.”
“It is strange you should not have met,” said Caroline; and then she added reflectively: “Well, perhaps it isn't.”
She had her own theories on the subject. And to say a woman has her own theories is to say a good deal.
“But I don't see why he should have let us almost lose sight of him,” she continued.
“What reason does he give?”
“Oh, the reason that makes one so helpless, you know. A man you like comes to you and says: 'I have sinned against you without any cause whatever. It was just my own badness, and nothing else, and now I am humble and repentant'—and what are you to do but forgive him? He's very penitent now and vows amendment.”