He was furious himself--at himself and at her.
"You--little fool!" he gasped. "What did you do that for even if
I WAS a jackass? There was nothing in it. You're so pretty----"
"You've spoiled everything!" she flamed, "everything--everything!"
"I've spoiled nothing. I've only been a fool--and it's your own
fault for being so pretty."
"You've spoiled everything in the world! Now--" with a desolate
horrible little sob, "now I can only go back--BACK!"
He had a queer idea that she spoke as if she were Cinderella and
he had made the clock strike twelve. Her voice had such absolute
grief in it that he involuntarily drew near her.
"I say," he was really breathless, "don't speak like that. I beg
pardon. I'll grovel! Don't--Oh! Kathryn--COME here."
This last because at this difficult moment from between the banks
of hot-house bloom and round the big palms his sister Kathryn
suddenly appeared. She immediately stopped short and stared at
them both--looking from one to the other.
"What is the matter?" she asked in a low voice.
"Oh! COME and talk to her," George broke forth. "I feel as if she
might scream in a minute and call everybody in. I've been a lunatic
and she has apparently never been kissed before. Tell her--tell
her you've been kissed yourself."
A queer little look revealed itself in Kathryn's face. A delicate
vein of her grandmother's wisdom made part of her outlook upon a
rapidly moving and exciting world.
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