“My dear Lady Helen,” I said, “I owe you an apology for what I did that night.”

“You owe me nothing,” she broke in.  “You know perfectly well that when a woman is kissed in that way she has only herself to blame.”

“But it takes two to make a bargain,” I insisted; “and it was I who did it.”

“Tell me,” she demanded, “tell me honestly; you didn’t imagine I would be angry?—­you felt perfectly easy about it at the time?”

I bungled again, of course:  I hesitated.

She laughed scornfully.  “You have answered me, Major Dalberg.”

“No,” said I, “I have not.  You were angry at the instant, though you chose to act otherwise.  I thought so, then; I am sure of it now.”

A feeble smile touched her lips.  “Confess, that you then thought the anger only assumed.”

“Didn’t you act deliberately to make me think so?”

“After you had kissed me,” she said, half defiantly, “what mattered it if I played it on to the end?”

“And you did it beautifully,” I agreed.

“So beautifully that you intimated I proposed playing it all over again with your friend Courtney.”

“You wrong me there,” I objected.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“I was annoyed at your going off with him.”

She turned and looked me in the eyes.  “You might, at least, spare me the discourtesy of flippancy,” she said.

“But I am serious, I assure you,” I insisted.

She smiled incredulously.  “I am so sorry to have bored you, Major Dalberg——­”

“But you don’t understand——­” I protested.

“Please let us drop the subject,” she interrupted.  “Don’t you think that a pretty view?” and she pointed with her crop to a mite of a lake below us, flashing through the trees.

I hope I did not show in my face how willing I was to change the subject; and I know I tried to keep it out of my voice.  But I fear I grew altogether too enthusiastic over the bit of scenery for, presently, Lady Helen remarked dryly: 

“One would never imagine you a lover of—­nature.”

I pulled myself up sharply.  “Are my looks so much against me?”

“I don’t see that looks have anything to do with it.  I mean one does not associate such tastes with professional soldiers.  Nature, to them, would normally represent only obstacles to overcome or advantages to be utilized.”

“But men do not look at everything through their professional eyes,” I laughed.  “If they did, every lawyer when he saw you would have but the one thought:  ‘What a glorious plaintiff for a breach of promise case.’”

“I suppose you think that complimentary,” she said.

“It was not so intended.”

“I trust not.”

“I used it only to illustrate the proposition.”

“Are you trying to make me quarrel with you?” she demanded.

“Surely not.”