He looked down at her in silence. He wanted more than that. That wasn't nearly enough. He wanted much more of humbleness before he could bring himself to lift her on to his knee, forgiven. And how much he wanted her on his knee. 'Do you realise what you've done?' he asked. 'Yes,' said Lucy. 'And I'm so sorry. Won't we kiss and be friends?' 'Not yet, thank you. I must be sure first that you understand how deliberately wicked you've been.' 'Oh, but I haven't been deliberately wicked!' exclaimed Lucy, opening her eyes wide with astonishment. 'Everard, how can you say such a thing?' 'Ah, I see. You are still quite impenitent, and I am sorry I came up.' He undid her arm from round his knees, put her on one side, and got out of the chair. Rage swept over him again. 'Here I've been sitting watching you like a dog,' he said, towering over her, 'like a faithful dog while you slept, waiting patiently till you woke up and only wanting to forgive you, and you not only callously sleep after having behaved outrageously and allowed yourself to exhibit temper before the whole house on our very first day together in my home--well knowing, mind you, what day it is--but when I ask you for some sign, some word, some assurance that you are ashamed of yourself and will not repeat your conduct, you merely deny that you have done anything needing forgiveness.' He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, his face twitching with anger, and wished to God he could knock the opposition out of Lucy as easily. She, on the floor, sat looking up at him, her mouth open. What could she do with Everard? She didn't know. Love had no effect; saying she was sorry had no effect. She pushed her hair nervously behind her ears with both hands. 'I'm sick of quarrels,' she said. 'So am I,' said Wemyss, going towards the door thrusting his pipe into his pocket. 'You've only got yourself to thank for them.' She didn't protest. It seemed useless. She said, 'Forgive me, Everard.' 'Only if you apologise.' 'Yes.' 'Yes what?' He paused for her answer. 'I do apologise.' 'You admit you've been deliberately wicked?' 'Oh yes.' He continued towards the door. She scrambled to her feet and ran after him. 'Please don't go,' she begged, catching his arm. 'You know I can't bear it, I can't bear it if we quarrel----' 'Then what do you mean by saying "Oh yes," in that insolent manner?' 'Did it seem insolent? I didn't mean--oh, I'm so tired of this----' 'I daresay. You'll be tireder still before you've done. _I_ don't get tired, let me tell you. You can go on as long as you choose,--it won't affect me.' 'Oh do, do let's be friends. I don't want to go on. I don't want anything in the world except to be friends. Please kiss me, Everard, and say you forgive me----' He at least stood still and looked at her. 'And do believe I'm so, so sorry----' He relented. He wanted, extraordinarily, to kiss her. 'I'll accept it if you assure me it is so,' he said.