“You did hurt me. You have no idea how strong you are; your hand feels as if it were made of steel. ‘I’ll forgive you _this_ time,’ as Madame Daverne used to say, ‘but don’t let it occur again,’” she added with an assumed gaiety she was far from feeling. After a silence of some minutes he said: “I can promise you one thing, Alice, and that is, that you shall resume your proper position in society, and be treated with the respect to which you have every claim. Your good name and mine are one. We will not talk any more on the subject, and I need not detain you longer,” opening the garden-gate politely and standing aside to allow her to pass. But Alice was apparently in no hurry; she continued pulling the syringa mechanically. “I want you to promise me something else, Reginald. Will you be friends with me,” she asked, raising her sweet wet eyes to his. “Friends!” he echoed, fairly staggered by the question. “Friends!” he reiterated in a slow deliberate tone, “of course. As your guardian, I must be your friend; and I am,” he replied stiffly. “That is not the sort of friend I mean. A guardian seems to me to be a sort of stern surly old gentleman, who doles out money, and orders one about, and keeps one in order, and is altogether horribly disagreeable.” “Charming picture! May I ask if I am the original?” he inquired. “No, of course not; you may be stern and disagreeable, but you are not old and surly.” “You are really _too_ flattering!” “If you knew how few friends I have, how alone in the world I feel, you would not say _no_,” she urged. “Did I say no?” he inquired with raised brows. “You certainly have not met my advances halfway,” she replied with a forced laugh. “You _will_ be my friend, will you not, Regy?” she pleaded, laying her hand timidly on his coat-sleeve. “I thought we were to be strangers?” he returned, coolly and politely removing her fingers. With a gesture of impatience Alice turned away, struggling hard to repress her tears, and with a fair assumption of dignity endeavoured to open the gate which a moment before had closed itself with a bang. She could hardly see as she bungled at the bolt. “Allow me!” said her husband, starting forward to her assistance. To her unutterable dismay and disgust, one of her too ready tears fell with a splash on his slim brown hand. It had the effect of melting him at once. He gazed at Alice steadfastly, and with a softer look in his dark eyes than they had known for many a day. “You foolish girl! if you really think my friendship worth having--do you not know very well that it is yours, and that, in spite of everything, I am always your best friend? How can I be otherwise? Much and often as I have wished it, I am not one of those who can forget.” “Nor are you one of those who can forgive!” “How can you tell?” “How can you ask me such a question?” “Well, we won’t argue about it. You say you want a friend?”