He would not touch the proffered palm.

He was so deathly white, and his voice shook so, that the hot tears rushed into the impetuous Harrie's eyes.
"I am so sorry," she said, with the simple humility of a little child.
"Please forgive me, Sir Everard.

I know it was horrid of me to laugh; but you don't really care for me, you know.

You only think you do; and I--oh! I'm only a flighty little girl of seventeen, and I don't love anybody in the world but papa, and I never mean to be married--at least, not for ages to come.

Do forgive me." He bowed low, but he would neither answer nor take her hand.