Conquering my pride, and walking up to him with a smile which was meant to be conciliatory, and holding out my hand, I said, "I am very rude sometimes. I hope you are not as unforgiving as Judith thinks you are."
Taking my proffered hand, he answered, "Even if I were, it would be easy to forgive you for preferring Thurber to me. I shall see you this evening. Au revoir," and he was gone.
"O Judith," I cried, "what have you done?"
"I know it," she responded, looking somewhat frightened and very penitent. "I am so sorry!" putting an arm round my waist. "Never mind; it will do him no harm."
"But it sounded so ill-bred of me," I returned disconsolately. "However, I will not make myself unhappy about it."
"I don't think he cared," Judith added consolingly. "He did not seem to care."
That was not what I feared. I knew that no remark of mine could have the power to wound George's feelings; but I did not wish any one to think me rude.
But the occurrence had almost ceased to trouble me when, at seven o'clock that evening, we arrived at Alice's door and joined the other guests. There were only a few minutes for conversation before dinner was announced, and Mr. Thurber took possession of me. We followed the others through a large salon, stopped in a small room preceding the dining-room, where a table was spread with caviare, sandwiches, cheese, dried fish, vadka, and some cordials.
