are not surprised when your adversary taps you on the ribs.
“I followed the candy man that time,” said Ives, irrelevantly, “and gave him five dollars at the corner of Broadway.”
He reached for the paper bag in Honoria’s lap, took out one of the square, wrapped confections and slowly unrolled it.
“Sara Chillingworth’s father,” said Honoria, “has given her an automobile.”
“Read that,” said Ives, handing over the slip that had been wrapped around the square of candy.
Love teaches us—to forgive.”
Honoria’s cheeks turned pink.
“Honoria!” cried Ives, starting up from his chair.
“Miss Clinton,” corrected Honoria, rising like Venus from the bead on the surf. “I warned you not to speak that name again.”
“Honoria,” repeated Ives. “you must hear me. I know I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I must have it. There is a madness that possesses one sometimes for which his better nature is not responsible. I throw everything else but you to the winds. I strike off the chains that have bound me. I renounce the siren that lured me from you. Let the bought verse of that street peddler plead for me. It is you only
[117]
