“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “It’s not much wetter than I am.”
But the friendlier note in her voice caught his ear, and now he looked at her. “Well, the fire would dry you out, too,” he said. And then, in a sort of outburst, he went on: “I–I simply can’t account for it at all. It was a horrible thing to do. But–well, I got up this morning in a perfectly vile temper, and, as long as I had a holiday, I thought I’d go off in the country somewhere by myself and try to work it off and–and think. And seeing you there on the car, somehow, made me all the madder–”
She gasped out a little “Oh'” which demoralized him still further.
“I don’t mean you personally,” he hurried on, in an agonized attempt to set things right. “Just any awfully–pretty girl–oh, please don’t mind! Thinking what a cinch it must be to be like that.”
No details have been added.