"Then why did you forbear? You weren't afraid to souse me with
cold water."

"Oh no," she said. "I wasn't afraid."

"I believe you were," maintained Piers. "You're afraid to speak your mind
to me now anyway."

She laughed a little. "No, I'm not. I really can't explain myself to you.
I think you forget that we are practically strangers."

"You talk as if I had been guilty of familiarity," said Piers.

"No, no! I didn't mean that," Avery coloured suddenly, and the soft glow
made her wonderfully fair to see. "You know quite well I didn't mean
it," she said.

"It's good of you to say so," said Piers. "But I really didn't know. I
thought you had decided that I was a suitable subject for snubbing. I'm
not a bit. I'm so accustomed to it that I don't care a--" he paused with
a glance of quizzical daring, and, as she managed to look severe, amended
the sentence--"that I am practically indifferent to it. Mrs. Denys, I
wish you had struck me yesterday."

"Really?" said Avery.

"Yes, really. I should then have had the pleasure of forgiving you.
It's a pleasure I don't often get. You see, I'm usually the one that's
in the wrong."