‘Well?’ she asked slyly, ‘and have you forgotten it quite?’
‘I’m the Man who saw the Wind, for one thing,’ he said at length; ‘and, after that, well—I suppose I’m the man who’s been looking for you without knowing it all his life! Now do you know me?’ he concluded triumphantly.
‘You foolish creature! Of course I know you!’
She came closer; the sunshine and the odour of the flowers seemed to come with her. ‘It’s you who couldn’t find me! I’ve been waiting for you to claim me ever since—either of us can remember.’
A queer, faint rush of memory rose upon him from the depths—and was gone. For an instant it seemed that her face half cleared.
‘Then, in the name of beauty,’ he cried, starting forward, ‘why can’t I see your face and eyes? Why do I only see you partly——?’
She hesitated an instant and drew back; she lowered her eyes—he felt that—and the voice dropped very low again as she answered:
‘Because, as yet, you only know me—partly.’
‘As through a glass, darkly, you mean?’ he said, half grave, half laughing.
The girl took both his hands and pressed them silently for a moment.