Rosina felt a strong inclination to bring the evening to a close. She wanted to be alone and think.
“We must go in,” she said.
“I also feel it,” he answered.
So they went in. The hall and staircase were quite deserted. He walked with her to the top of the first flight.
“Do we leave good-bye here?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said smiling; “I think so.”
He stood looking at her, and out of the depths of his nature various phantoms strove into shape.
“It is well that I go,” he said seriously; “after all, we are not children, you and I, and however we laugh it is always that, that we really are not children.” He put out his hand and took hers. “I shall be away, and the time will be long, and—” he paused abruptly.
Her eyes almost closed beneath the unbearable heat of his gaze.
“Shall you remember me?” she asked, faintly this time.