"That is the good within ourselves."
She looked at him as though there were something too much in that answer; they were both quiet afterward. Then she asked, as she traced figures with one finger on the window-pane,—
"Have you made any songs lately?"
He blushed; but this she did not see. Therefore she asked again,—
"How do you manage when you make songs?"
"Would you really like to know?"
"Oh, yes."
"I hoard up the thoughts that others are in the habit of letting go," he answered evasively.
She was long silent, for she had doubtless been making an attempt at a song or two. What if she had had those thoughts and let them go.
"That is strange," said she, as though to herself, and fell to tracing figures on the pane again.