"I suppose you won't bother to forgive me, but I'm terribly sorry.

If you'll let me put a little mud on it----" She disdained to reply.

He hovered about her, clumsily solicitous, and whichever way she turned, he managed to get underfoot, until, thoroughly vexed, she stood stock-still and opened her arms with a hopeless gesture: "What _are_ you trying to do, Delancy?
Do you want to embrace me?
I wish you wouldn't leap about me like a great Dane puppy!" The red surged up into his face anew: "I beg your pardon," he said.

"I'm very sorry." She looked at him curiously: "I beg yours--you big, silly boy.

Don't blush at me.