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‘You look just like a cat.’
She gave him a flash of her dark, fine eyes.
‘I really ought to break myself of the habit. It’s absurd to
behave like a child when you’re my age, but I’m comfortable
with my legs under me.’
‘It’s awfully jolly to be sitting in this room again,’ said
Philip happily. ‘You don’t know how I’ve missed it.’
‘Why on earth didn’t you come before?’ she asked gaily.
‘I was afraid to,’ he said, reddening.
She gave him a look full of kindness. Her lips outlined a
charming smile.
‘You needn’t have been.’
He hesitated for a moment. His heart beat quickly.
‘D’you remember the last time we met? I treated you aw-
fully badly—I’m dreadfully ashamed of myself.’
She looked at him steadily. She did not answer. He was
losing his head; he seemed to have come on an errand of
which he was only now realising the outrageousness. She
did not help him, and he could only blurt out bluntly.
‘Can you ever forgive me?’
Then impetuously he told her that Mildred had left him
and that his unhappiness had been so great that he almost
killed himself. He told her of all that had happened be-
tween them, of the birth of the child, and of the meeting
with Griffiths, of his folly and his trust and his immense
deception. He told her how often he had thought of her
kindness and of her love, and how bitterly he had regretted
throwing it away: he had only been happy when he was with
her, and he knew now how great was her worth. His voice