He made some criticisms in line with his pencil on it, correcting the drawing here and there, and then he respected it a little more, though he still smiled at the feminine quality--a young lady quality.
In spite of his experience the night he called upon the Leightons, Beaton could not believe that Alma no longer cared for him.

She played at having forgotten him admirably, but he knew that a few months before she had been very mindful of him.

He knew he had neglected them since they came to New York, where he had led them to expect interest, if not attention; but he was used to neglecting people, and he was somewhat less used to being punished for it--punished and forgiven.

He felt that Alma had punished him so thoroughly that she ought to have been satisfied with her work and to have forgiven him in her heart afterward.
He bore no resentment after the first tingling moments were-past; he rather admired her for it; and he would have been ready to go back half an hour later and accept pardon and be on the footing of last summer again.

Even now he debated with himself whether it was too late to call; but, decidedly, a quarter to ten seemed late.