"Grant, Margaret wants to talk with you.

I must run along." And before either could speak he had darted away, plowing his way rudely through the crowd.
Margaret and Grant watched his progress--she smiling, he surly and sneering.

"Yet you like him," said Margaret.
"In a way, yes," conceded Arkwright.

"He has a certain sort of magnetism." He pulled himself up short.

"This morning," said he, "I apologized to him for my treachery; and here I am at it again." "I don't mind," said Margaret.