“Charming, of course, Mrs. Curtis, absolutely charming!”
“I thought you’d like it. And I’m sure Roland does too, though he would be too shy to own to it. You know, Mr. Whately, I felt like telling her when she put it on that Roland would have to be very careful or he would find a lot of rivals when he came back from Brussels.”
It was more than April could bear. She had endured a great deal that day and this was the final ignominy.
“How can you, mother?” she said. “How can you?” and jumping to her feet, she ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
The sudden crash reverberated through the awkward silence; then came the soft caressing voice of Mrs. Curtis: “I’m so sorry, Mr. Whately; I don’t know what April can be thinking of. But she’s like that sometimes. These young people are so difficult; one doesn’t know where to find them. Yes, that’s right, Roland, run and see if you can’t console her.”
For Roland had risen, moved deeply by the sight of April’s misery, her pathetic weakness. It was not fair. First of all he had been beastly to her, then her mother had made a fool of her. He found her in the dining room, huddled on a chair beside the fire. She turned at once to him for sympathy. She stretched out her arms, and he ran towards them, knelt before her and buried his face in her lap.
“We have been such beasts to you, April, all of us. I have felt so miserable about it all day. I didn’t know what to do. I thought you would never forgive me. I don’t deserve to be forgiven; but I love you; I do, really awfully!”
“That’s all right,” she said; “don’t worry,” and placing her hand beneath his chin she raised gently his face to hers.
It was a long kiss, one of those long passionless kisses of sympathy, pity and contrition that smooth out all difficulties, as a wave that passes over a stretch of sand leaving behind it a shining surface. For a long while they sat in each other’s arms, saying nothing, his fingers playing with her hair, her lips from moment to moment meeting his. When at last they reverted to the subject of their morning’s quarrel there was little possibility of dissension.
It was with a gay smile that she asked him why he had been so angry with her. “Why shouldn’t our parents know, Roland? They would have had to some day.”