“Will you tell me why you cut me like that just now?”
“If you don’t know, I doubt if I could make you understand,” I
answered, with an air of, imperial disdain.
“You bear me a grudge, hein? For what I did last March? Well, then,
you are right. There. I was abominable. But I have been sorry, and I
ask your pardon. Now will you let bygones be bygones? Will you forgive
me?”
“Oh,” I said, “don’t try to play the simpleton with me. You are
perfectly well aware that isn’t why I cut you.”
“But why, then?” cried she, admirably counterfeiting (as I took for
granted) a look and accent of bewilderment.