Now that her back was towards him she felt safer, and her mellow
laugh trilled out as she said, "We may have to dub this place a
confessional rather than a studio of you talk in that way."
"If I confessed all my sins against you, Miss Mayhew, it would,
indeed, be a confessional." He spoke so earnestly that she gave
him a quick glance of surprise.
"There is no need," she said, hesitatingly, "since I have given you
full absolution," and she suddenly became interested in something in
the farthest corner of the apartment. After a moment she added,
"If I am to come here I must say to you again, as I did on the
day I so disgusted you by my behavior in the stage--you must let
by-gones be by-gones."
It was now the artist's turn to laugh, and his merriment was
so hearty and prolonged that she turned a vexed and crimson face
towards him and said, "I think it's too bad in you to laugh at me
so."
"Miss Mayhew, I assure you I'm not laughing at you at all. But your
words suggest a good omen. Didn't that stage teach you that fate
means us to be good friends in spite of all you can do? Before we
met in that car of fortune I had been trying for a week or more to
make your acquaintance, and made a martyr of myself in the effort.
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