"Even when you didn't come."
"Then it's just as nice to think about me as to talk to me?"
"Almost!" He said it quite cheerfully, and through her pique she had to laugh.
"What do you think, playmate?"
"I make a world and I put you in it. Then I put myself in, too."
When he spoke like this, simply and even with a gay indifference, she wondered whether the world was a pageant to him, which it cost him no pains to relinquish, and whether, too, though he had great kindliness and understanding, deep emotions were forbidden him. At least, since he was impersonal and remote, she could ask him anything.
"What is your world? Is it like this?"
"It isn't my world. It's yours and mine. We go about in it, having a bully time, and nobody looks at us or asks us questions."
"Don't they see us?"
"Oh, yes, I dare say. Only they don't stare after us and say, 'Why do they do thus and so?' They don't even speak of your beautiful hair. I talk about that myself, all the time, and you like to have me. But we should both think it mighty queer if anybody else did."