Charlie sprang up instantly, his brown face exceedingly alert.

"Come to the fire!" he said hospitably.

Molly went, but did not sit down. She stood facing him on the
hearth-rug. Her young face was very troubled.

"I want to tell you," she said steadily, "how sorry--and grieved--I am
for all the hard things I have said and thought of you. I would like to
retract them all. I was quite wrong. I took you for an idler--a buffoon
almost. I know better now. And I--I should like you to forgive me."

Her voice suddenly faltered. Her eyes were full of tears she could
neither repress nor conceal.

Charlie, however, seemed to notice nothing strained in the atmosphere.
He broke into a gay laugh and held out his hand.

"Oh, that's all right," he said briskly. "Shake hands and forget what
those asses said about me! You were quite right, you know. I am a
buffoon. There isn't an inch of heroism anywhere about me. You took my
measure long ago, didn't you? To change the subject, I'm most awfully
pleased to hear that you and old Fisher have come to an understanding.
Congratulate you most heartily. There's solid worth in that chap. He
goes straight ahead and never plays the fool."

He looked straight at her as he spoke. Not by the flicker of an eyelid
did he seem to recall the fact that he had once asked on his own behalf
that which he apparently so heartily approved of her bestowing upon