“I should love to,” I cried, “but I must first make a little confession.”
She leaned over me and forced me to lie down. She was still quite Maeterlinckian.
“What is your confession?”
“The reason I fell into your garden,” I proceeded very quickly, “was because I was reconnoitring how to manage to fall into it. I wanted very much to see your garden—and you.”
“Why?”
“For many reasons,” I answered diplomatically.
“Give them to me.”
“W-e-l-l, you have lived here for years now, without ever leaving the place.”
“I don’t know of anyone in Pantich who ever does leave it.”
“Y-e-s, I know; but you are different.”