"
"I say!" broke from him. "It was like wringing a canary's neck
when it was singing in the sun!"
A sudden swelling of the music of a new dance swept in to them
and he rose and stood up before her.
"Thank you for giving me my chance to tell you," he said. "This
was the apology. You have been kind to listen."
"I wanted to listen," Robin said. "I am glad I didn't live a long
time and grow old and die without your telling me. When I saw you
tonight I almost said aloud, 'He's come back!'"
"I'm glad I came. It's queer how one can live a thing over again.
There have been all the years between for us both. For me there's
been all a lad's life--tutors and Eton and Oxford and people and
lots of travel and amusement. But the minute I set eyes on you
near the door something must have begun to drag me back. I'll own
I've never liked to let myself dwell on that memory. It wasn't a
good thing because it had a trick of taking me back in a fiendish
way to the little chap with his heart bursting in the railway
carriage--and the betrayal feeling. It's morbid to let yourself
grouse over what can't be undone. So you faded away. But when I
danced past you somehow I knew I'd come on SOMETHING. It made me
restless. I couldn't keep my eyes away decently. Then all at once
I KNEW! I couldn't tell you what the effect was. There you were
again--I was as much obliged to tell you as I should have been if
I'd found you at Braemarnie when I got there that night.
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