“Where are you going?” asked Martin, somewhat breathlessly.
“To some place where I can be alone,” she flashed.
“Very well,” said he, and raised his cap and left her.
In a few seconds he heard her call.
“Martin!”
He turned. “Yes?”
“I’m anything you like to call me,” she said. “It’s not your fault. It’s my temper. But you’ve got to learn it’s better not to turn women down flat like that, even when they speak in jest.”
“I’m very sorry, Corinna,” he said, smiling gravely, “but when one jests on such subjects I don’t know where I am.”
They crossed the square slowly, side by side.
“I suppose neither you nor anybody else could understand,” she said. “I was angry with you, but if you had played the fool I should have been angrier still.”