She walked on, refusing to speak, and Philip saw with agony that they had only a few hundred yards to go before they reached her house.  He abased himself.  He poured out an incoherent story of love and penitence.

“If you’ll only forgive me this time I promise you you’ll never have to complain of me in future.  You can go out with whoever you choose.  I’ll be only too glad if you’ll come with me when you’ve got nothing better to do.”

She stopped again, for they had reached the corner at which he always left her.

“Now you can take yourself off.  I won’t have you coming up to the door.”

“I won’t go till you say you’ll forgive me.”

“I’m sick and tired of the whole thing.”

He hesitated a moment, for he had an instinct that he could say something that would move her.  It made him feel almost sick to utter the words.

“It is cruel, I have so much to put up with.  You don’t know what it is to be a cripple.  Of course you don’t like me.  I can’t expect you to.”

“Philip, I didn’t mean that,” she answered quickly, with a sudden break of pity in her voice.  “You know it’s not true.”

He was beginning to act now, and his voice was husky and low.

“Oh, I’ve felt it,” he said.

She took his hand and looked at him, and her own eyes were filled with tears.

“I promise you it never made any difference to me.  I never thought about it after the first day or two.”

He kept a gloomy, tragic silence.  He wanted her to think he was overcome with emotion.

“You know I like you awfully, Philip.  Only you are so trying sometimes.  Let’s make it up.”

She put up her lips to his, and with a sigh of relief he kissed her.

“Now are you happy again?” she asked.

“Madly”

She bade him good-night and hurried down the road.  Next day he took her in a little watch with a brooch to pin on her dress.  She had been hankering for it.

But three or four days later, when she brought him his tea, Mildred said to him: 

“You remember what you promised the other night?  You mean to keep that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

He knew exactly what she meant and was prepared for her next words.

“Because I’m going out with that gentleman I told you about tonight.”

“All right.  I hope you’ll enjoy yourself.”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

He had himself now under excellent control.

“I don’t like it,” he smiled, “but I’m not going to make myself more disagreeable than I can help.”

She was excited over the outing and talked about it willingly.  Philip wondered whether she did so in order to pain him or merely because she was callous.  He was in the habit of condoning her cruelty by the thought of her stupidity.  She had not the brains to see when she was wounding him.

“It’s not much fun to be in love with a girl who has no imagination and no sense of humour,” he thought, as he listened.