There was a moment of silence, then she looked up at him with a little
spark of wonderment in her eyes.
"You're not going to forgive me--is that it?" she asked blankly.
She moved away from him; she stood just in front of him, looking into
his face with the witching eyes he knew so well.
He would not look at her; he stared steadily over her head at the door
beyond; he tried to laugh.
"It's not a question of forgiveness--is it?" he asked jerkily.
"You--you chucked me up. You--you told me a lie to get rid of me.
It--it isn't a question of forgiveness, do you think?"
She looked nonplussed, then she smiled. She took Jimmy's face between
her hands, holding it so that he was forced to meet her eyes; she stood
on tiptoe and softly kissed his chin.
"I'm sorry," she said, and now there was a very genuine ring of
earnestness in her voice. "I'm more sorry than I can ever say.
Forgive me, Jimmy; I've been punished enough. I--oh, if you knew how
miserable I've been."
Jimmy stood like a man turned to stone; he stared at her with a sort of
dread in his eyes. There were tears in hers; one big tear fell from
her long lashes, and splashed down on to the lilies she wore.
After a moment he spoke with difficulty.
"Are you . . . what are you trying to say to me?"
Her hands fell to her sides; she looked down with a touch of shame.
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