e doing. The run had made
Leonore's cheeks blaze, as Peter's touch had made her eyes. The rain had
condensed in little diamonds on her stray curls, and on those long
lashes. It seemed to Peter that he had never seen her lovelier. The
longing to take her in his arms was so strong, that he almost wished she
had refused to return. But then Peter knew that she was deeply offended,
and that unless he could make his peace, he was out of favor for a day
at least. That meant a very terrible thing to him. A whole day of
neglect; a whole day with no glimpse of these eyes; a whole day without
a smile from those lips!

Peter had too much sense to say anything at once. He did not speak till
they were back in the hall. Leonore had planned to go straight to her
room, but Peter was rather clever, since she preceded him, in getting to
the foot of the staircase so rapidly that he was there first.

This secured him his moment for speech. He said simply: "Miss D'Alloi, I
ask your forgiveness for offending you."

Leonore had her choice of standing silent, of pushing passed Peter, or
of speaking. If she had done the first, or the second, her position was
absolutely impregnable. But a woman's instinct is to seek defence or
attack in words rather than actions. So she said: "You had no right, and
you were very rude." She did not look at Peter.

"It pained me far more than it could pain you."

Leonore liked Peter's tone of voice, but she saw that her position was
weakening. She said, "Let me by, please."

Peter with reluctance gave her just room to pass. He felt that he had
not said half of what he wished, but he did not dare to offend again.

As it turned out, it was the best thing he could do, for the moment
Leonore had passed him, she exclaimed, "Why! Your coat's wringing wet."

"That's nothing," said Peter, turning to the voice.

He found those big dark eyes at last looking at him, and looking at him
without anger. Leonore had stopped on the step above him.

"That shows how foolish you were to go out in the rain," said Leonore.

"Yes," said Peter, venturing on the smallest smiles.

Leonore promptly explained the charge in Peter's "yes." "It's very
different," he was told. "I put on tips and a mackintosh. You didn't put
on anything. And it was pouring torrents."

"But I'm tough," said Peter, "A wetting won't hurt me."

"So am I," said Leonore. "I've tramped for hours in the Orkneys, and
Sweden and Norway, when it was raining. B