Will you accept this apology in the
spirit in which it is tendered, and wipe out the whole incident from your
memory? I venture to hope and believe that you are sportsman enough to
accede to my request.
Yours regretfully.
DREDLINTON.
Wingate was conscious of a feeling of disappointment as he threw the note
upon the table. Open warfare was, after all, so much better. An _amende_
so complete left him with no alternative save acquiescence. Even while he
was coming to this somewhat unwelcome decision, the telephone bell rang.
He took off the receiver and was instantly galvanised into attention. It
was Josephine speaking.
"Is that Mr. Wingate?" she asked.
"It is," he admitted. "Good morning--Josephine!"
"Quite right," she answered composedly. "That is how I like to have you
call me. I am speaking for my husband. He is here by my side at the
present moment."
"The mischief he is!" Wingate said. "Well?"
"My husband has desired me to intercede with you," Josephine
continued, "to beg your acceptance of the apology which he has sent you
this morning."
"No further word need be spoken upon the subject," Wingate replied. "Your
husband has explained that he was drunk and has tendered his apology. I
accept it."
There was a brief pause. Josephine was obviously repeating Wingate's
decision to her husband.
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