At the end of the fortnight she met him and asked him to come and see her.
He smiled, and did not come.
Her eyes grew too big for the small, sad face.
She met him again, and asked him why he had not come.
He looked down into the sweet, true eyes, and his love weakened his will again.
He promised he would come. He came, and stayed five minutes. He looked at her sternly as he greeted her.
"Why do you want me?" he said, and watched the colour come and go in her cheeks with pitiless eyes.
"We—used—to be—friends," she whispered.
He laughed.
"Never! I never felt friendship for you," he said, "nor you for me. You forget. Five years is a long time, but I have a retentive memory. I forget nothing."