"I've been behaving like a boor, haven't I?" he admitted. "Forgive me. And
can't we be friends? After all, I've some sort of claim. I pulled you out
of Lac Leman--or rather, prevented your tumbling into it, you know."
He spoke with a curious persuasive charm. There was something almost
boyishly disarming about his manner. It was as though for a moment a
prickly, ungracious husk had dropped away, revealing the real man within.
He held out his hand, and as Ann laid hers within it she felt her spirits
rising unaccountably.
"I hope you'll like it here," he pursued. He glanced round with a
discontented expression. "Does the cottage furniture satisfy you? Is it
what you like?"
"It's perfectly charming," she replied whole-heartedly. "I love
old-fashioned things."
"Well, if there's anything you'd like altered or want sending down, you
must let me know. There are stacks of stuff up at Heronsmere."
"You've already sent down the one thing to complete my happiness," she
answered, smiling. "That jolly little pony."
"Oh, Dick Turpin. Do you like him?"
"Is that his name? Yes, I like him immensely. Thank you so much for sending
him." She paused, then added rather shyly: "I always seem to be thanking
you for something, don't I? First for rescuing my bag at the Kursaal, then
for rescuing me, and now for Dick Turpin!"
"You can't do without a cob"--briefly.
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