CHAPTER III. Who walked you home?\" Mike asked her, his voice tinged with jealousy, as she passed the garlic bread. “Go down and rescue the rags of my reputation,” she said, smiling. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. Very likely you will disapprove highly of what I have done—I wonder? You may, perhaps, think I have done it just in a fit of childish petulance because my father locked me in when I wanted to go to a ball of which he did not approve. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. “This is my way back to my side of the Park,” she said. I do forgive him; but he will never know now.
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