"Jimmy," she said.

Jimmy's first wild instinct was to rush forward and take her in his
arms; then he remembered. He backed away from her a step; he began to
tremble.

"What--what have you come here for?" he stammered.

She laughed.

"Jimmy, how rude! You don't look a bit pleased to see me. You--oh,
Jimmy, I thought you'd be so happy--so delighted."

She came across to him now; she slipped a hand through his arm; she
leaned her cheek against his coat-sleeve; the scent of the lilies she
wore mounted intoxicatingly to his head.

He tried not to look at her--he tried to stiffen his arm beneath her
cheek; but his heart was thumping--he felt as if he were choking.

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.