"Come with me," said Crescence.
"I'm coming directly: just you go first."
As she entered the garden, Crescence saw Florian sitting on a log,
stooping greatly, and digging into the wood with a knife which looked somewhat like a stiletto. His long chestnut hair nearly covered his forehead.
"Florian, what are you doing?" asked Crescence.
He threw the knife aside, shook his hair out of his face threw his arms around Crescence, and kissed her. She offered no resistance, but at length said,--
"There! that's enough now: you are just the same you always were."
"Yes; but you're not what you used to be."
"Not a bit changed. You are cross because I go with the geometer, a'n't you? Well, you know you and I could never have got married. My folks won't let me go to service; and stay with them I don't want to, either, until my hair turns gray."