"I oughtn't to have spoken as I did at first--I was a perfect
brute," he said remorsefully; "forgive me, won't you? Please,
little Miss Meg--I would rather cut my hand off than really hurt
you."
This last was a little consoling, at any rate, and Meg lifted her
face half a second, white and pathetic in the moonlight, and all
wet with grievous tears.
"I--I--oh! indeed I have not been quite so horrid as you think,"
she said brokenly; "I didn't want to come this walk--and oh!
indeed, indeed, indeed I wouldn't allow ANYONE to kiss me. Oh,
PLEASE do believe me!"
"I do, I do indeed," he said eagerly; "I only said it because--well,
because I am a great rough brute, and don't know how to talk to a
little, tender girl. Dear Miss Meg, do shake hands and tell me you
forgive my boorishness."
Meg extended a small white hand, and he shook it warmly. Then
they walked up the paddocks together, and parted at a broken gate
leading into the garden.
"I'll never flirt again while I live," she said with great
earnestness, as he bade her good-bye; and he answered encouragingly,
"No, I am quite sure you won't--leave it to girls like Aldith, won't
you? you only wanted to be set straight.
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