Make friends, you two.

Christian, will you not ?" Christian rose.

She had never kissed Miss Gascoigne in her life, had had no encouragement to do it, and it would have seemed a piece of actual hypocrisy.

Now it was not.

The kiss of affection it could hardly be, but there is such a thing as the kiss of peace.
She rose and went, white and tottering as she was, across the room to where Miss Gascoigne sat, hard, bitter, and silent, determined that not a step should be taken on her side--she would not be the first to "make friends." "Forgive me, Aunt Henrietta, if I ever offended you.