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"Are you warm enough there?" he asked, and there was an unconscious
tenderness in his voice as he asked the question, "or shall I fetch you
a wrap?"
She smiled. "I have my hood," she said. "It is the warmest thing I ever
wear, except, of course, in winter."
Philip looked at the hood as she drew it more closely over her head, and
thought that surely no more becoming article of apparel ever was
designed for woman's wear. He had never seen anything like it either in
color or texture,--it was of a peculiarly warm, rich crimson, like the
heart of a red damask rose, and it suited the bright hair and tender,
thoughtful eyes of its owner to perfection.
"Tell me," he said, drawing a little nearer and speaking in a lower
tone, "have you forgiven me for my rudeness the first time I saw you?"
She looked a little troubled.
"Perhaps also I was rude," she said gently. "I did not know you. I
thought--"
"You were quite right," he eagerly interrupted her. "It was very
impertinent of me to ask you for your name.


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