"I beg your pardon for intruding," he said, his voice hardening, "but"--
"The public street is free to anybody, I suppose," she returned, with
an air of studied politeness. "I don't claim any exclusive right to
it."
"I didn't apologize for being on the street, but for speaking to you."
"Oh, that," answered Berenice carelessly, although he thought that he
detected a spark of mischief in her eye, "is a thing of so little
consequence that it isn't worth mentioning."
"I venture to speak to you," he said, ignoring the thrust, "because I
have wanted to beg your pardon for my rudeness when I saw you last."
She turned upon him quickly, her cheeks aflame.
"Your rudeness?" she exclaimed. "Your brutality, I think you mean!"
It was his turn to grow red.
"My brutality, if you choose. I beg your pardon for whatever offended."
"It was unpardonable! It was a thing no woman could ever forgive!"
Maurice turned pale. He stopped where he stood.
"In that case," he said, bowing with formality, "I have no business to
be speaking to you now."
He turned and was gone before she could add a word.
This interview probably made neither of the young persons happy; and
Maurice it left entirely miserable.
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