“Because you are so unfeeling,” sobbed Babbie.

“What have I said, what have I done?” cried Gavin, in an agony of self-contempt “Oh, that I had gone away at once!”

“That is cruel.”

“What is?”

“To say that.”

“What did I say?”

“That you wished you had gone away.”

“But surely,” the minister faltered, “you asked me to go.”

“How can you say so?” asked the gypsy, reproachfully.

Gavin was distracted.  “On my word,” he said, earnestly, “I thought you did.  And now I have made you unhappy.  Babbie, I wish I were anybody but myself; I am a hopeless lout.”

“Now you are unjust,” said Babbie, hiding her face.

“Again?  To you?”

“No, you stupid,” she said, beaming on him in her most delightful manner, “to yourself!”

She gave him both her hands impetuously, and he did not let them go until she added: 

“I am so glad that you are reasonable at last.  Men are so much more unreasonable than women, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps we are,” Gavin said, diplomatically.

“Of course you are.  Why, every one knows that.  Well, I forgive you; only remember, you have admitted that it was all your fault?”

She was pointing her finger at him like a schoolmistress, and Gavin hastened to answer—­

“You were not to blame at all.”

“I like to hear you say that,” explained the representative of the more reasonable sex, “because it was really all my fault.”

“No, no.”

“Yes, it was; but of course I could not say so until you had asked my pardon.  You must understand that?”

The representative of the less reasonable sex could not understand it, but he agreed recklessly, and it seemed so plain to the woman that she continued confidentially—­

“I pretended that I did not want to make it up, but I did.”

“Did you?” asked Gavin, elated.

“Yes, but nothing could have induced me to make the first advance.  You see why?”

“Because I was so unreasonable?” asked Gavin, doubtfully.

“Yes, and nasty.  You admit you were nasty?”

“Undoubtedly, I have an evil temper.  It has brought me to shame many times.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said the Egyptian, charitably.  “I like it.  I believe I admire bullies.”

“Did I bully you?”

“I never knew such a bully.  You quite frightened me.”

Gavin began to be less displeased with himself.

“You are sure,” inquired Babbie, “that you had no right to question me about the ring?”

“Certain,” answered Gavin.

“Then I will tell you all about it,” said Babbie, “for it is natural that you should want to know.”

He looked eagerly at her, and she had become serious and sad.

“I must tell you at the same time,” she said, “who I am, and then--then we shall never see each other any more.”