Her eyes were fixed imploringly on Gay.

Tears were glistening in them, the pose of her figure suggested a delightful penitence.

The susceptible poet felt his emotions stirred.
"Forgive you?
But you haven't told me what I am to forgive.

You ran away from school you say.

What made you?
Had you quarrelled with anyone ?" "Oh no--not then--the quarrel was after I left the school." "After--hang me if I understand.